I SET OUT ON A MISSION
The Vasilievs were the only people I could go to in Moscow. They lived
on the outskirts of the city. I made an attempt to walk to their house,
but was too weak to proceed more than two blocks. There was a cabman
near at hand, but he wanted twenty-five roubles to take me to my
friends. I tried to bargain, offering fifteen, but he would not hear of
it. As I had no money, I finally hired the cab in the hope that Daria
Maximovna would pay for it. The alternative was to remain where I was.
Madame Vasilieva received me as if I were her own daughter. She was
overwhelmed with joy at my release. I was too weak and worn out to
appreciate fully my miraculous deliverance from torture and death. I
was given some light food, and Daria Maximovna began to prepare a bath
for me. I had not changed my undergarments for several weeks, and my
body was blacker than it ever had been during my life in the trenches.
My skin was in a terrible condition from vermin. The bath was a greater
relief at the moment than my release itself. And the long hours of
sleep following it were even more welcome. I doubt if sleep ever tasted
sweeter to any one.
It was impossible to remain long as a guest in Moscow in those early
days of March, 1918. Stepan lived away from his home, as he and
his parents held widely divergent views in regard to the political
situation. The family consisted of Daria Maximovna, her husband and the
younger son. The daughter, Tonetchka, was married and lived elsewhere.
The three Vasilievs received daily a pound and one-eighth of bread!
The weekly meat ration was a pound and a half. I, therefore, promptly
realized what a burden I was bound to be. But I could not make up my
mind where to go and what to do. The Vasilievs offered to buy me a
ticket home, but the document I had from the Soldiers’ Section was in
itself a ticket.
I recalled that some of my wounded girls had been sent to Moscow, to
be quartered in the Home for Invalids, and I thought of looking them
up. I took a walk to the city. When I approached the block in which the
Home was situated, I noticed a crowd in the street, largely composed
of soldiers, holding meetings of indignation. When I reached the Home
I saw a number of wounded soldiers, some of them without legs or arms,
dispersed about the front grounds.
On inquiry I learned that the Bolshevist authorities had turned the
hundreds of crippled inmates of the Home into the street. Many of them,
including my girls, had already disappeared, some no doubt being forced
to beg, others being cared for by charitable people and societies. But
still a goodly number remained, crying, cursing Lenin and Trotzky, and
asking passers-by for food and shelter. It was a pathetic sight. The
cruelty of the order made one’s blood boil. It was evidently an act of
wanton brutality. The excuse that the Government needed the building
was certainly no justification for it.
There were about two hundred soldiers in the crowd, and I stopped to
listen to their conversation. All of them had been attracted to the
place by the complaints of the ejected invalids. Their talk came as a
revelation to me. They were in a mutinous spirit, stirred up against
the régime of Lenin and Trotzky. For several hours I lingered round the
various groups, sometimes taking part in the discussions.
“See what you have brought about by your own acts. You have shamefully
beaten and killed your officers. You have forgotten God and destroyed
the Church. Now, this is the result of your deeds.” In some such manner
I would address the men, and they would answer somewhat as follows:
“We believed that by overthrowing our officers and the wealthy class,
we should have plenty of bread and land. But now the factories are
demolished and there is no work. We are terrorized by the Red Guards,
who are recruited mostly from drunkards and criminals. If there are any
honest soldiers among them, it is because hunger and poverty force them
to enlist in order to escape starvation. If we demand justice and fair
play, we are shot down by the Red executioners. And all the while the
Germans are advancing into Russia, and nobody is sent to fight them,
our real enemies.”
At these words I crossed myself, thanking the Almighty for the deep
change He had wrought in the minds of the people.
The crowd became so excited that the authorities were notified and
a detachment of the Red Guard was sent to suppress it. It arrived
suddenly and warned us to disperse by firing a volley into the air. The
gathering separated and vanished from the street. A group of about ten
soldiers, including myself, rushed into a neighbouring courtyard and
continued the conversation there behind the gates.
“See, what you get now! If you were armed, they would not dare to
treat you like that. They made you surrender your arms and now oppress
you worse than the Tsar. Who ever heard of a thousand sick persons
being thrown out into the street under the old régime?” I asked.
“Yes, we have been betrayed. It is clear now. The Germans are taking
away all our bread, occupying our land, destroying our country,
demanding all our money and possessions. We have been betrayed,” nodded
several men.
“Ah, so you are beginning to see the truth!”
“Yes, we are,” declared one fellow. “A month ago I wouldn’t have talked
to you. I was then the chairman of a local Soviet. But I see what it
all means now. We are being arrested, searched, robbed, terrorized by
the Red Guard mercenaries. I would, myself, shoot Lenin and Trotzky for
this outrageous treatment of the hospital patients. A month ago I was
a fool, but I see now that I was all wrong in my ideas about you and
other opponents of the Bolsheviks. You are not an enemy of the people,
but a friend.”
Accompanied by a couple of soldiers I walked away. One of them told me
he had seen one of my girls begging, after she had been turned out of
the Home. My heart ached at the thought, but I was absolutely without
means. What could I have done for her? We reached the Cathedral of
Christ the Saviour and I remembered the vow I had made to have a public
mass celebrated in commemoration of my miraculous escape from death.
I took leave of my companions and entered the church. There were about
five or six hundred people there. On that very day, I believe, the
order was promulgated separating the Church from the State. All the
devout members of the Cathedral came to the Communion service that
afternoon.
I went to see the deacon in the vestry and told him of the miracle
that had been vouchsafed me and the vow I had made. I did not fail
to mention the fact that I was penniless and could not pay for the
service. At the conclusion of the Communion, the priest announced:
“There has just come here a Christian woman who has suffered greatly
for the country and whose name is known throughout the land. A miracle
saved her in a desperate moment. God listened to her prayers and sent
her an old friend, whose life she had once saved, on the eve of her
execution. The execution was postponed. She then prayed to God again,
and a divine voice informed her that her life would be spared. She
vowed to offer public prayers in this Cathedral in the event of her
release. The Lord mercifully granted her freedom, and she is now here
to fulfil the vow.”
The priest then asked the deacon to bring me up to the altar. When I
was led there, a murmur went through the assembly:
“Heavens! It’s Botchkareva!”
Candles were lit and for fifteen minutes prayers of praise to the Lord
were read, glorifying His name.
I returned to the Vasilievs by tram. On the car there were many
soldiers, and again their conversation cheered me up.
“A fine end we have come to! The Germans are moving nearer and nearer,
and here they are shooting and arresting the people!” the men said to
one another. “Why don’t they send the Red Guard to resist the enemy? We
are being sold to the Germans.”
This was my second encounter with sober-minded soldiers in one day.
I arrived at Daria Maximovna’s in high spirits. The awakening of the
Russian soldier had begun!
I had left my medals and crosses in Petrograd before starting out on
the fateful errand. Borrowing some money from Madame Vasilieva, I went
to Petrograd to fetch them. The railway carriage in which I travelled
was packed with about a hundred and fifty soldiers. But they were no
longer the cut-throats, the incensed and revengeful ruffians of two
months ago. They did not threaten. They did not brag. The kindness of
their true natures had again asserted itself. They even made a place
for me, inviting me to sit down.
“Please, Madame Botchkareva,” they said, “take this seat.”
“Thank you, comrades,” I answered.
“No, don’t call us comrades any more. It’s a disgrace now. The
comrades are at present fleeing from the front, while the Germans are
threatening Moscow,” some of them remarked.
I felt among friends. This comradeship was what endeared the Russian
soldier to my heart. Not the comradeship of the agitators, not the
comradeship so loudly proclaimed in the Bolshevik manifestoes and
proclamations, but the true comradeship that had made the three years
in the trenches the happiest of my life. That old spirit again filled
the air. It was almost too good to be true. After the nightmare of
revolutions and terror, it seemed like a dream. The soldiers were
actually cursing Bolshevism, denouncing Lenin and Trotzky!
“How has it come about that you all talk so sensibly?” I asked.
“Because the Germans are advancing on Moscow, and Lenin and Trotzky
don’t even raise a finger to stop them,” came the answer. “A soldier
has escaped from Kiev and has just telegraphed that the Germans are
seizing Russians and sending them to Germany to help to fight against
the Allies. Lenin and Trotzky told us that the Allies were our
enemies. We now see that they are our friends.”
Another soldier, who had been home on leave, told of an armed Red Guard
detachment that had descended on his village one fine day and robbed
the peasants of all the bread they had, the product of their sweat and
toil, exposing them to starvation.
“The people are hungry, that’s why they join the Red Guard,” one of
the men remarked. “At least then they get food and arms with which to
plunder. It is getting so that no one is safe unless he belongs to the
Red Guard.”
“But why don’t you do something?” I addressed myself to them.
“Everywhere I see the people are indignant, but they do nothing to cast
off the yoke.”
“We have demanded more than once the resignation of Lenin and Trotzky.
There were large majorities against them at several elections. But they
are supported by the Red Guard and keep themselves in power in spite of
the will of the people. The peasants are against them almost to a man.”
“The more reason why you should act,” I said. “Something ought to be
done!”
“What? Tell us what!” several inquired.
“Even to get together, for instance, and re-establish the front!” I
suggested.
“We would, but we have nobody we can trust to lead us. All our good
people are fighting among themselves,” they argued. “Besides, we should
need arms and food.”
“You just said that the Allies were our friends. Suppose we asked them
to send us arms and food and help us to reorganize the front, would you
be willing to fight the Germans again?” I inquired.
“Yes,” answered some, “we would.”
“No,” replied others; “what if the Allies got into Russia and wanted to
take advantage of us, like the Germans?”
“Well, you must elect your own leader to co-operate with the Allies
only on condition that we fight till we defeat the enemy and finish the
war,” I proposed.
“But whom could we choose as our leader?” the men persisted. “All our
chiefs are divided. Some are reputed to be monarchists. Others are said
to be exploiters of the poor working people. Others are declared to be
German agents. Where could we find a man who did not belong to one or
other of these parties?”
“What if I, for instance, took charge, and became your leader?” I
ventured to ask. “Would you follow me?”
“Yes, yes!” they cried. “We could trust you. You are a peasant
yourself. But what could you do?”
“What could I do? You know that these scoundrels are destroying Russia.
The Germans are seizing everything they can lay hold on. I would try to
restore the front!”
“But how?” they asked.
At this moment, the idea of going to America originated in my mind. We
had all heard that America was now one of the Allies.
“What if I should go to America to ask there for help?” I ventured.
My companions all burst out laughing. America is so remote and so
unreal to the Russian peasant. It did not sound like a practical
proposition to the soldiers. But they raised only one objection.
“How would you ever get there? The Bolsheviks and Red Guards will never
let you out of the country,” they said.
“But if I did get there and to the other Allies,” I insisted, “and
came back with an army and equipment, would you join me then, and would
you persuade all your friends to come with you?”
“Yes, we would! Yes! We know that you could not be bought. You are one
of us!” they shouted.
“In that event, I will go to America!” I announced resolutely, there
and then making up my mind to go. The soldiers would not believe me.
When we reached Petrograd, and I parted from them affectionately, with
their blessings following me, I did not forget to warn them to remember
their pledge upon hearing of my return from foreign lands with troops.
I spent only a few hours in Petrograd and did not go to see General X.
I got my war decorations from the woman friend with whom I had left
them, and saw only a few of my acquaintances. I told all of them of
the great change in the state of mind of the soldiers, and they were
delighted.
“Thank God!” they exclaimed. “If the soldiers are waking up, then
Russia will yet be saved.”
After dinner I took a train back to Moscow. As usual, soldiers
formed the bulk of the passengers. I listened to their discussions
attentively, although this time I took no part in them, as there were a
few Bolsheviks among the men, and I did not wish to divulge my plans. I
heard many curse Lenin and Trotzky, and all expressed their willingness
to go to fight the Germans. One fellow asked:
“How could you fight them, without leaders and organization?”
“Ah, that’s the trouble,” answered several at once. “We have no
leaders. If some appeared and only appealed to us, we would make short
work of the Bolsheviks and drive the Germans out of Russia.”
I said nothing, but I took good note of their words. The people were
groping for light. It strengthened my determination to go to the Allied
countries in search of help for Russia. But it was necessary to evolve
some plan whereby I could get out of the country. A happy thought then
occurred to me: I would make my destination the home of my valued
friend, Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst in London.
Upon my arrival at Moscow, I announced to the Vasilievs my decision to
go to London. It was explained to me that the only way out of Russia
lay through Vladivostok, and that I should have to cross America before
coming to England. That suited me perfectly.
Before taking the necessary steps for the departure I resolved to
look up my girls and I visited a hospital to which my poor little
soldiers were said to have been taken. When I arrived at the address
I found the building closed and was referred to a certain professor,
whom I finally traced. He told me that those of the girls who were not
severely wounded had left for their homes. Only about thirty invalids
remained. Five of these were suffering from shell shock and were either
hysterical or insane. Many of the others were nervous wrecks. He had
worked hard to get them into the Home for Invalids, but hardly had they
arrived there when the building was requisitioned by the Bolsheviks and
the inmates turned out into the streets. Vera Michailovna, a wealthy
woman, had rescued them from the streets and sheltered them in her
house, but just before my visit she had telephoned to him that the
Bolsheviks had now requisitioned her own house, and she was at a loss
to know how to dispose of the girls. He concluded with the suggestion
that both of us should go over to Vera Michailovna.
With a heavy heart I entered the large house in which my unfortunate
girls were staying, expecting every moment to be ordered to leave. My
visit was a complete surprise to them. But there was no joy in my heart
as I crossed the threshold of their room. It was not a happy re-union.
I had no means with which to help them, no power, no influential
friends.
“The Commander! the Commander!” the women exclaimed joyously as soon
as they saw me, rushing toward me, throwing themselves upon my neck,
kissing me, hugging me.
“The Commander has come! She will save us! She will get us money,
bread, a home!”
They danced about me in high glee, making me feel even more bitter and
miserable.
“My dear girls!” I said, in order to undeceive them at once, “I am
myself penniless and hungry. You mustn’t expect any help of me now.”
“No matter! You know how to get everything!” they said confidently.
“You will take us to fight the Bolsheviks as we fought the Germans!”
There was a conference between Vera Michailovna, the professor and
myself on the problem confronting us. Vera Michailovna suggested that I
should take the girls along with me to my village. I rejected the idea
at first, both because I did not intend to remain at Tutalsk, but only
to pass through it on the way to Vladivostok and because of my lack
of funds. Vera Michailovna, however, insisted that the wisest thing
in the circumstances would be to take them away from Moscow. She told
me that several of the girls had been enticed away and maltreated by
the Bolshevik soldiers and that the result of leaving them in Moscow
would be their ruin. She offered to provide tickets for them all to my
village and a thousand roubles in ready money. I finally consented to
take my invalids with me, hoping to obtain sufficient funds in America
to ensure them a life of peace and comfort.
I had resolved to go to America. But I had no funds. As my destination
was to be London, for the reasons mentioned, I thought of seeking
assistance from the British Consul in Moscow. With the aid of the
Vasilievs I succeeded in finding the Consul’s offices and went to
see him. There were many people waiting to see the Consul, and I was
informed that he could not be seen. His secretary came out and asked me
the purpose of my call. I gave him my name, told him of my plight and
of my decision to go to London, to visit Mrs. Pankhurst, and asked for
aid on the ground that I had fought and sacrificed much for the cause
of Russia and the Allies. He reported my presence to the Consul, who
received me almost immediately.
The Consul was very courteous. He met me with a smile and a cordial
handshake, said that he had read in the papers of my arrest at Zverevo
and inquired what he could do for me. I showed him the document from
the Soviet, but did not reveal to him the fact of my mission to
Kornilov, adding:
“Consul, this paper, as you see, allows me freedom of movement. I want
to take advantage of it and go to London, to visit my friend, Mrs.
Pankhurst. But I am without means. I came to ask you to send me, as a
soldier, who had fought for the Allied cause, to England. If Russia
should awake, I shall eagerly resume my service on behalf of this
cause.”
The Consul explained that the Bolsheviks would not allow him to
draw on the Consulate’s deposits in the banks, but, in view of my
circumstances, he could supply me with some money for expenses. As to
my visit to London, he said there were almost insuperable difficulties
in the way, even for his own countrymen, let alone Russians.
But I would not alter my mind, and persisted in begging him to send me
to his country. He promised to consider the matter and give a definite
answer that night. He then invited me to dine with him at eight o’clock
that evening.
When I returned for dinner the Consul informed me that he had already
telegraphed to the British Consul at Vladivostok of my going to London
by way of America, requesting him to aid me in every way he could. At
dinner I told the Consul how Mrs. Pankhurst had come to know me, but
kept to myself the real purpose of my journey, as I feared that the
Consul would not want to antagonize the Bolsheviks by extending his
protection to me. He gave me five hundred roubles (about £52 15_s._
6_d._), and I decided to leave immediately. A Siberian express was
leaving at 12.40 the same night. I had a few hours left to get my girls
to the station and to bid farewell to the Vasilievs.
My immediate destination was Tutalsk, on the Great Siberian Line. I was
uneasy about the treatment our party might receive from the soldiers,
who occupied three-quarters of the space on the train. But here again
the mental transformation was obvious. The passengers discussed
affairs sensibly. There were many officers on the train, but they
were not molested. The soldiers were friendly to them and to us. The
all-absorbing topic was the advance of the Germans. Lenin and Trotzky
were cursed and denounced as despots worse even than the Tsar. There
were many refugees from the newly-invaded provinces, and their tales
further increased the mutinous spirit of the men.
“We were promised bread and land. Now the Germans are taking both away.”
“We wanted an end to the war, but Lenin has got us into a worse
position than before.”
“We went to the Bolshevist offices and told them of our hunger, and
they advised us to enlist in the Red Guard.”
“It is impossible to find work, all the factories are shut down or
disorganized.”
These and similar sentiments were expressed on every side. Underlying
them all was a greater hatred for the Germans than ever. There was
no doubt in my mind that those men were ready to follow any trusted
leader, with arms and food, against the Germans.
At Tcheliabinsk the train stopped for a couple of hours. There were two
regiments stationed there, and there were several hundred soldiers on
the express. A meeting was quickly organized quite near the station,
within a short distance of the place where I had been thrown off the
train some three months ago. But how different was the mood of the
masses now! There were thousands at the meetings. A refugee addressed
the crowd. He made a stirring, sarcastic speech.
“Every one of us,” he began, “has something at stake in Russia. We
all want to defend our country. We have all made our sacrifices. For
three years I fought in this war. Then I was set free to return home.
But I found my home in the hands of the Germans. I could not return.
I lost my parents, my wife, my sisters! What do I now get for all my
sacrifices?
“Liberty! I came to Petrograd. For three days I went hungry. I was not
alone. There were many other soldiers who suffered the same fate. They
gave us no bread. What have we gained?
“Liberty!
“I went to see the chief of the Government in Petrograd. But I was not
admitted to him. I was nearly beaten to death and thrown out of the
building. Why?
“Liberty!
“The Germans are taking everything they can lay hands on, and at the
same time the Red Guard is being strengthened in order to fight--whom,
the Germans?--no, the so-called bourgeoisie! But are they not our own
brethren, our own blood? In whose name are we urged to slaughter our
own people while the Germans ravish our land?
“In the name of Liberty!
“Our country has been disgraced and ruined and still we are being
called upon to destroy our own educated and intelligent classes.
“Is this liberty?
“I hear that in Moscow a thousand invalids were thrown out into the
street. These invalids are soldiers like yourselves and myself, only
maimed and crippled for life. Why were they thrown out?
“For the sake of liberty!”
We were all deeply impressed by this speech. Not a single voice was
raised in protest. Every heart felt that the liberty we had received
was not the kind of liberty we had dreamed of. We wanted peace,
happiness, brotherhood, not civil war, foreign invasions, strife,
starvation and disease.
Another speaker arose and said:
“He is right. We have been deceived and disgraced. We go hungry and no
one cares. But how can we get out of this shameful situation? We should
have to overthrow the present leaders, and re-establish the front. The
Japanese are already moving into Siberia, and the Germans are occupying
Russia, all because we are divided. We shall be under some foreign yoke
if we don’t join our forces. We quarrelled with our officers, but how
can we ever hope to do anything without officers? We might make peace
with them, but where can we get arms to overthrow our present leaders,
who have surrounded themselves with bands of Red Guards?”
For a moment the vast gathering remained silent. It was a pathetic
calm. There was a painful sense that our much-cherished freedom had
turned into an oppressive bondage.
Suddenly a couple of men raised their voices, shouting protests,
denouncing the speaker, even threatening him. They were promptly seized
and placed under arrest, and quiet was restored.
“Allow me to answer the question!” I shouted to the chairman from the
distant place I occupied.
“Botchkareva! It’s Botchkareva!” a number of voices passed the word to
the platform, and immediately I was lifted up and carried on to the
platform.
“It’s a pleasure to speak to you now,” I began, “only a few weeks ago
you would have torn me to pieces.”
“Yes, it’s true! We killed many!” several men interrupted. “But we were
told that the officers wanted to enslave us, that’s why we killed them.
We now see that our real enemies are not the officers, but the Germans.”
“Before I answer the question put by the previous speaker, let me ask
you what your attitude is toward the Allies?” I said.
“America, England, and France we trust. They are our friends. They are
free countries. But we distrust Japan. Japan wants Siberia,” came in
reply from many directions.
Here a soldier interrupted and asked permission to ask a question. It
was granted.
“I can’t understand why our Allies do not defend us,” he said. “Not
even one of them has come to our help at a time when Germany is
devouring our land. The Allied envoys are running away from Russia, and
those that remain do not listen to the voice of the masses, but to the
representatives of Lenin and Trotzky. At Moscow I saw an official of
the Soviet escort an Englishman to a train. I was hungry. There were
hundreds of soldiers like me at the station. Our hearts were aching. We
wanted to give him a message, but he did not even turn to us. Instead,
he warmly shook hands with the Soviet official.”
“What if we should appeal to the Allies, to America, England, and
France, to furnish us with bread, arms and money for the reconstruction
of the front?” I resumed.
“How can we trust them?” I was interrupted again. “They will come here
and work in league with Lenin and his band of bloodsuckers.”
“Why not join forces and elect a Constituent Assembly, and let your own
leaders co-operate with the Allies?” I suggested.
“But whom could we choose?”
“That we would decide later. There are plenty of good men still left in
Russia,” I answered. “But what if I, for instance, should want to do
something, would you trust me?”
“Yes, yes! We know you! You are of the people!” hundreds of voices
cried out.
“Well, let me tell you then, I am going to America and England. If I
should succeed and come back with an Allied force, would you come to
aid me in saving Russia?”
“Yes, we will! Yes, yes!” the crowd roared.
With this the meeting ended. The train was now about to start and we
hurried towards it, singing on the way. I felt happy and hopeful.
Several thousand soldiers were not to be disregarded. They were
almost unanimous in their new view of the country’s condition. Taken
in combination with what I had observed in Moscow and on the way to
Petrograd, this meeting further reinforced my hopes for Russia’s
salvation. It was obviously a phenomenon of widespread occurrence, this
awakening of the soldiers.
My mother had received Petrukhin’s letter, and for six weeks had
mourned me as dead. She was overwhelmed with joy upon my return, but
became a little uneasy as she perceived a long line of girls, many of
them almost barefoot, file after me into the little hut. She took me
aside and asked what it meant, confiding to me that she had only fifty
roubles left of the money I had brought home on my previous visit. I
begged her to be patient and assured her that I would arrange matters
promptly. I immediately went to the owner of the hut and several others
of the leading peasants of the community, got them together, explained
to them the situation, informed them that I had only one thousand
roubles to spend toward the support of the girls, and asked if they
would undertake to feed and house them on credit till my return from
America.
“I swear that I will pay every kopeck due to you. I will get enough
money to pay not only the debts, but to ensure for them sustenance and
shelter to the end of their lives. Now I want you to keep a record of
all your expenses. Will you trust me?”
“Yes,” replied the peasants. “We know that you have done a great deal
for Russia, and we have confidence in you.”
This was the arrangement under which the thirty invalids of my
Battalion of Death were left by me in the village of Tutalsk in March,
1918. The thousand roubles I gave to my mother with instructions to buy
shoes for the most destitute of the girls. Of the five hundred roubles
given to me by the Consul, I gave three hundred to my mother I decided
to take my youngest sister, Nadia, with me to America. Accompanied to
the station by my parents, the thirty girls, and half the community, I
started eastward, for Irkutsk and Vladivostok, dressed once more as a
woman.
At the station in Irkutsk I noticed a young girl, with two tiny
children in her arms. Somehow her face looked familiar to me, but I
could not recall who she was. She was evidently in trouble, poor and
ragged. For a while she stared at me. Then she ran up and cried out
breathlessly:
“Mania!”
She was the younger daughter of the woman Kitova, whose husband had
killed the dog-catcher and who had accompanied him into exile, at the
same time that I had gone into exile with Yasha. Then she was only a
little girl, not more than eleven or twelve years old. Now she was the
mother of two children.
For three days, she told me, her mother and herself had been living on
the floor of the station. They had only seventy kopecks left in their
possession. With this money the mother had gone to the town to find a
lodging! More than three months they had been travelling from Yakutsk,
where this girl had married a political. All the money in my purse was
two hundred roubles. I gave forty and then another twenty to the poor
girl.
While I was nursing one of the two babies, an official approached me.
“Are you Botchkareva?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
He wanted to detain me, but some of the soldiers who had travelled on
the same train with me hurried to my defence. There was a hot argument.
I drew out my pass from the Soviet and claimed the freedom to go
wherever I pleased. I was finally left in peace.
I waited for the return of old Kitova to the last minute, desirous to
see her and especially to learn about Yasha and other friends in North
Siberia. Her daughter could only tell me that Yasha had married a Yakut
woman, after the local fashion, and was still in Amga when last she
heard....
We resumed the journey eastward. At Khabarovsk, about 460 miles from
Vladivostok, we changed trains and had to accommodate ourselves for the
night at the station in the women’s waiting-room. When I was about to
settle down for the night, the door opened and a voice behind me called
out sharply:
“Commander Botchkareva?”
“Yes,” I replied, alarmed at this form of address.
“Are you going to England?” was the next question.
“No.”
“Where, then, are you going?”
“To Vladivostok, to stay with some relatives.”
The official then demanded my baggage in order that he might search it.
He found a letter from the Moscow Consul to his Vladivostok colleague.
I explained that, the Consul had helped me in Moscow and now asked the
English representative at Vladivostok to help me also. The official
told me in a whisper that he was only fulfilling orders, but did not
sympathize any longer with Lenin’s régime. He had left four soldiers
outside the room in order to facilitate matters for me. His eyes
then fell on a photograph of me in the trunk. It showed me in full
uniform and was the last copy in my possession. He asked for it and my
autograph, and to win his good will I gave it to him without demur. He
then advised me to conceal the letter from the Consul, and I sent it by
Nadia to Ivanov, one of my fellow-travellers outside. One of these was
a member of a provincial Soviet, an ex-Bolshevik. He and other soldiers
aided me while I was on the train to evade the Red Guards, who used
to search it daily, at various stations, for officers going to join
General Semenov. More than once, in an emergency, I was concealed under
their overcoats. When the Guard asked:
“Who’s there?”
“A sick comrade,” was the answer, and they passed on.
The official had received orders to take me to the town and detain
me. Escorted by the four Guards, Nadia and I were taken to the police
station. I was locked up, while the official went to call a meeting of
the local Soviet. Nadia remained outside the cell, and I suddenly heard
her cry for help. Rushing to the door, I saw through the keyhole that
the Red Guards were annoying her. I banged at the door, shouting to the
rascals to leave her alone, appealing to their sense of shame, but they
only jeered and continued to torment her. My helplessness behind the
locked door infuriated me. I dare not think of what the ruffians would
have done to Nadia had not my friend Ivanov come in with two other
soldiers to plead for me.
They found Nadia crying and me banging at the door in a white fury. I
told them of the behaviour of the four Red Guards toward my sister, and
a sharp quarrel ensued. Presently the chairman of the local Soviet and
the majority of its members arrived. My case was taken up. It appeared
that orders had been received from Moscow or Irkutsk to detain me. As
the search had not led to the discovery of any incriminating evidence
against me, my claim that I was going to Vladivostok could not be
refuted.
Ivanov and the two soldiers put up a valiant defence, arguing
that I was a sick woman, that they had come to know me during our
companionship on the train as a real friend of the people, and that
it would be a disgrace to arrest me and send me back with no evidence
against me. But for these three defenders, I should in all probability
have been dispatched under escort to Moscow or Tutalsk. With their
aid, I was able to make such a favourable impression on the Khabarovsk
Soviet that I was permitted to proceed to Vladivostok, where I arrived
about the middle of April, 1918, with five roubles and seventy kopecks
in my purse.
The Soviet in Vladivostok kept a close watch over all the people who
were arriving and departing. As soon as Nadia and I reached a lodging
house, our documents were demanded in order that they might be sent to
the Soviet for inspection. Nadia had a regular passport, while I made
use of the paper from the Moscow Soldiers’ Section. It is usual for
such documents to be returned to their owners with the stamp of the
local Soviet on the back. But ours were slow in arriving--not a good
omen.
I went to the English Consul and was received in his office by an
elderly Russian Colonel, who served there in the capacity of secretary
and interpreter. He recognized me at once, as a telegram from Moscow
announcing my coming had preceded me. The Consul was very kind and
cordial when I was shown into his study, but declared that his position
was such that he could not take it upon himself to obtain a passport
for me from the Soviet, as he was suspected of counter-revolutionary
activities.
Without revealing to the Consul the true purpose of my journey, I
explained to him that my journey to London was undertaken not merely
as a social visit to Mrs. Pankhurst, but as an escape from the terror
of Bolshevism, which made life perilous for me anywhere in Russia. He
advised me to go to the local Soviet, tell them of my desire to go
to Mrs. Pankhurst, of whom the Bolsheviks had certainly heard, and
ask for passports. The Consul thought that the Soviet could not find
anything suspicious about my journey to his country, and would allow me
to proceed unmolested. I replied with an account of some of the things
I had endured at the hands of Lenin’s government and said that I was
certain that my formal application for a passport would be the end of
my adventure. He then telephoned to the American Consul at Vladivostok,
informed him of my arrival and my plight, and enlisted his interest.
I returned to the hotel, with three hundred roubles in my purse, given
me by the Consul. The place was dirty and without conveniences, but
it was almost impossible to obtain decent accommodation in the city.
However, the proprietor of the inn was very helpful and later saved me
from trouble.
The following day the Consul told me that all efforts to win the
goodwill of the Soviet toward me had not only failed but had been
met with threats. The Bolsheviks might even send me back, I learned.
I renewed my entreaties to the Consul to send me away, even without
the Soviet’s passport. He would not promise to do so, but under the
pressure of my appeals finally showed an inclination to consider the
matter.
Upon leaving the Consulate I was stopped in the street by a soldier.
“Botchkareva?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Why did you come here to tramp the streets?” was the next question.
“I came to visit my relatives, but found that they had moved, so I am
going back soon.”
He let me go my way. As soon as I arrived at the inn, the proprietor
took me aside to tell me that representatives of the Soviet had called
in my absence, and inquired as to my doings and my plans. He had
informed them that I had come to visit some relatives, but was unable
to find where they were living. They had left with the threat that they
would return to arrest me. I did not intend to wait for their arrival
and allow myself to be detained and sent back. I telephoned to the
Consul and told him of the latest development. Fortunately he had some
good news for me. An American transport was to touch at Vladivostok two
days later!
Nadia and I hurried to the Consulate. The Consul declared that the
Bolsheviks had threatened him if he should be found aiding me to
get away. Meanwhile he proceeded to have all the necessary foreign
passports prepared for us, and we were photographed for that purpose.
The difficulty of leaving Vladivostok without a pass from the Soviet
still confronted us. The harbour was under strict supervision, and
the boats that were used to ferry passengers from the shore to the
steamships were manned and inspected by Bolsheviks.
For nearly two days I remained in my room, in constant dread of the
appearance of Red Guards to arrest me. They did not come, however,
apparently convinced that I could not escape them anyway. They had
ample reason afterwards to change their minds about this. I then went
to the Consul again. The American transport _Sheridan_ was due that
night, he said, but he was not sure yet if the Captain would be willing
to take me on board.
Meanwhile we sought a means to elude the inspectors at the port. A
large travelling basket was tried, and I managed to pack myself into
it, but the Consul decided that I might be suffocated in case the
basket should be left at the pier for a couple of hours. So I got out
of the basket.
The transport arrived in the evening, and the Captain expressed his
willingness to carry me across the Pacific. At the request of the
Consul I remained in his house, while my sister, accompanied by an
officer, went to the inn to get my things, and with them left for the
vessel. Two hours later I called up the inn to find out whether Nadia
had been there with the officer. The proprietor informed me that about
fifty Red Guards had just been there looking for me, and had been
disagreeably surprised to learn that I had departed already.
“Where did she go?” they asked the proprietor.
“To the railway station, to take a train,” he lied.
“What train?” they shouted indignantly. “There are no trains leaving
to-night.” With that they went away, presumably to search for me.
I communicated to the Consul what I had learned, and he hid me in a
closet. Shortly afterwards several Red Guards arrived, asking for
Botchkareva. The Consul denied knowledge of my whereabouts, declared
that I had come to him only once, as a result of which he had applied
to the Soviet for a passport for me, but since he was refused he washed
his hands of my case. The Red Guards said that I had been observed
entering the Consulate, but had not been seen to leave it. They glanced
about for me and then left, after the Consul’s denial of my visit.
The old Colonel returned, after taking Nadia aboard the transport,
with the news that I should have company on the way, as eight Russian
officers were to be passengers on the same vessel. Hundreds of Russian
officers had arrived in Vladivostok in the belief that they could join
the British army there and be transported to France. Unfortunately the
Allies would not accept their services and they found themselves in
difficult circumstances, without means to return to European Russia
and with no desire to do so, as long as Bolshevism was still rampant
there. Some of them succeeded by various means in making their way to
the United States or Canada.
The Colonel asked me if I wanted to meet my fellow-travellers. I
answered in the affirmative, and as they were at the moment at the
Consulate, he took me into the room in which they were waiting.
Scarcely had I crossed the threshold, when, glancing at the small group
of officers, my eyes suddenly fell on Leonid Grigorievitch Filippov,
my former battle adjutant, who had carried me unconscious under German
fire to safety in that unhappy advance of the Battalion.
“What are you doing here?” both of us asked each other simultaneously,
astonished at this unexpected meeting.
I had always felt that I owed my life to Lieutenant Filippov after I
had been stunned by a shell and injured while running from the enemy at
the end of the fruitless offensive launched by the Battalion. He had
taken charge of the Battalion after I had been sent to the Petrograd
hospital, and later left for Odessa to train as an aviator.
From a short private conversation I learned that Lieutenant Filippov
was in the same plight as all the other officers who had come to
Vladivostok under the impression that they would be accepted by the
Allies. I decided to ask the Consul to allow him to assume his former
post of adjutant to me and let him become a member of my party.
The Consul graciously consented, and I was happy at the thought of
journeying to foreign lands in the company of an educated friend, with
a knowledge of languages, peoples and geography, who was also devoted
to Russia with all his heart.
After another conference with the Consul, it was decided that I should
be dressed as an Englishwoman and as such make an effort to get to
the American transport. The necessary clothes were obtained, and in
fifteen minutes I appeared no longer as a soldier, but as a veiled
foreign lady who did not understand a word of Russian. Accompanied by
the Colonel, I left for the harbour, after having expressed my deepest
thanks to the Consul for his great sacrifices in my behalf.
I was supposed to play a speechless rôle and leave everything to my
escort. This I did, although more than once my heart jumped when a
guard seemed to scrutinize me closely, and now and then I had to
suppress an impulse to laugh when the Colonel, in reply to questions,
said that I was an Englishwoman returning home. It was dark when I was
ferried to the transport, and everything went off without mishap. But
that was not the end of the adventure.
The transport had to remain for another day in the harbour, and it was
expected that the Soviet would search it for me. To baffle all attempts
to discover me I was placed in a cabin, the entrance and all approaches
to which were guarded. Nobody was allowed to come near the room, all
inquirers being told that an important German general was detained
there on his way to an American prison camp. Even Lieutenant Filippov
did not know of the trick and was greatly worried over my non-arrival
as the hour for the departure of the ship drew near. If any Bolshevik
emissary was sent on board the vessel to look for me, he was stopped in
front of a certain cabin by American soldiers and informed that no one
would be permitted to get within so many feet of the imprisoned enemy
general.
When the anchors of the _Sheridan_ were raised and the ship began to
move, I came out of the cabin, to the liveliest merriment of everybody
who had expected to see a stern Teuton general emerge from the door.
I was free!
It was April 18, 1918, when I left Russian soil for the first time
in my life. Under the American flag, on an American transport, I was
heading for that wonderful land--America--carrying in my breast the
message of the Russian peasant-soldier to the Allies:
“Help Russia to release herself from the German yoke and become
free--in return for the five million lives that she has sacrificed for
your safety, the security of your liberties, the preservation of your
own lands and lives!”
_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner _Frome and London_
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation errors have been fixed.
Page 21: “be begged my forgiveness” changed to “he begged my
forgiveness” “Once drunk, be became” changed to “Once drunk, he became”
Page 57: “offere little resistance” changed to “offered little
resistance”
Page 65: “ha broken down” changed to “had broken down”
Page 85: “commande me to report” changed to “commanded me to report”
Page 111: “as violently a on” changed to “as violently as on”
Page 165: “burden of reponsibility” changed to “burden of
responsibility”
Page 180: “the oustanding factor” changed to “the outstanding factor”
Page 222: “the anti-chamber” changed to “the ante-chamber”
Page 233: “Who sigued it” changed to “Who signed it”
Page 239: “one of the troup” changed to “one of the troop”
Page 328: “in conbination with” changed to “in combination with”