THE RED ARMY
The day I joined my regiment I donned my Red army uniform, consisting
of a khaki shirt, yellow breeches, putties, a pair of good boots which
I bought from another soldier (the army at that time was not issuing
boots), and a grey army overcoat. On my cap I wore the Red army
badge--a red star with a mallet and plough imprinted on it.
This could not be said to be the regular Red army uniform, though it
was as regular as any. Except for picked troops, smartly apparelled in
the best the army stores could provide, the rank and file of recruits
wore just anything, and often had only bast slippers in place of boots.
There is bitter irony and a world of significance in the fact that
in 1920, when I observed the Red army again from the Polish front, I
found many of the thousands who deserted to the Poles wearing British
uniforms which had been supplied, together with so much war material,
to Denikin.
“_Tovarishtch Kommandir_,” I would say on presenting myself before my
commander, “_pozvoltye dolozhitj_.... Comrade Commander, allow me, to
report that the allotted task is executed.”
“Good, Comrade So-and-so,” would be the reply, “I will hear your report
immediately,” or: “Hold yourself in readiness at such and such an hour
to-morrow.”
The terminology of the former army, like the nomenclature of many
streets in the capitals, has been altered and the word “commander”
substituted for “officer.” When we were alone I did not say “Comrade
Commander” (unless facetiously) but called him “Vasili Petrovitch,” and
he addressed me also by Christian name and patronymic.
“Vasili Petrovitch,” I said one day, “what made you join the Red army?”
“You think we have any option?” he retorted. “If an officer doesn’t
want to be shot he either obeys the mobilization order or flees from
the country. And only those can afford to take flight who have no
family to leave behind.” He drew a bulky pocket-book from his pocket,
and fumbling among the mass of dirty and ragged documents, unfolded a
paper and placed it before me. “That is a copy of a paper I was made to
fill in and sign before being given a Red commission. We all have to
sign it, and if you were discovered here I should have signed away my
wife’s life as well as my own.”
The paper was a typewritten blank, on which first the name, rank in the
old army, present rank, regiment, abode, etc., had to be filled in in
detail. Then followed a space in which the newly mobilized officer gave
an exhaustive list of his relatives, with their ages, addresses, and
occupations; while at the bottom, followed by a space for signature,
were the following words:
_I hereby declare that I am aware that in the event of my
disloyalty to the Soviet Government, my relatives will be arrested
and deported._
[Illustration: A REVIEW OF ‘RED’ TROOPS]
Vasili Petrovitch spread out his hands, shrugging his shoulders.
“I should prefer to see my wife and my little daughters shot,” he
said, bitterly, “rather than that they be sent to a Red concentration
camp. I am supposed to make my subordinates sign these declarations,
too. Pleasant, isn’t it? You know, I suppose,” he added, “that
appointment to a post of any responsibility is now made conditional
upon having relatives near at hand who may be arrested?” (This order
had been published in the Press.) “The happiest thing nowadays is to
be friendless and destitute, then you cannot get your people shot. Or
else act on the Bolshevist principle that conscience, like liberty, is
a ‘bourgeois prejudice.’ Then you can work for _No. 2 Goróhovaya_ and
make a fortune.”
Not only my commander but most of the men in my unit talked like
this amongst themselves, only quietly, for fear of Bolshevist spies.
One little fellow who was drafted into the regiment was uncommonly
outspoken. He was a mechanic from a factory on the Viborg side of the
city. His candour was such that I suspected him at first of being a
_provocateur_, paid by the Bolsheviks to speak ill of them and thus
unmask sympathizers. But he was not that sort. One day I overheard him
telling the story of how he and his fellows had been mobilized.
“As soon as we were mobilized,” he said, “we were chased to all sorts
of meetings. Last Saturday at the _Narodny Dom_ [the biggest hall in
Petrograd] Zinoviev spoke to us for an hour and assured us we were
to fight for workmen and peasants against capitalists, imperialists,
bankers, generals, landlords, priests, and other bloodsucking
riff-raff. Then he read a resolution that every Red soldier swears to
defend Red Petrograd to the last drop of blood, but nobody put up his
hand except a few in the front rows who had, of course, been put there
to vote ‘for.’ Near me I heard several men growl and say, ‘Enough! we
aren’t sheep, and we know for what sort of freedom you want to use us
as cannon fodder.’ Son of a gun, that Zinoviev!” exclaimed the little
man, spitting disgustedly; “next day--what do you think?--we read
in the paper that ten thousand newly mobilized soldiers had passed
a resolution unanimously to defend what Zinoviev and Lenin call the
‘Workers’ and Peasants’ Government’!”
Few people ventured to be so outspoken as this, for everybody feared
the four or five Communists who were attached to the regiment to
eavesdrop and report any remarks detrimental to the Bolsheviks. One
of these Communists was a Jew, a rare occurrence in the rank and file
of the army. He disappeared when the regiment was moved to the front,
doubtless having received another job of a similar nature in a safe
spot in the rear. The only posts in the Red army held by Jews in any
number are the political posts of commissars. One reason why there
appear to be so many Jews in the Bolshevist administration is that they
are nearly all employed in the rear, particularly in those departments
(such as of food, propaganda, public economy) which are not concerned
in fighting. It is largely to the ease with which Jewish Bolsheviks
evade military service, and the arrogance some of them show toward the
Russians, whom they openly despise, that the intense hatred of the Jew
and the popular belief in Russia that Bolshevism is a Jewish “put-up
job” are due. There are, of course, just as many Jews who oppose the
Bolsheviks, and many of these are lying in prison. But this is not
widely known, for like Russian anti-Bolsheviks they have no means of
expressing their opinions.
* * * * *
Leo Bronstein, the genius of the Red army, now universally known by
his more Russian-sounding pseudonym of Trotzky, is the second of the
triumvirate of “Lenin, Trotzky, and Zinoviev,” who guide the destinies
of the Russian and the world revolution. That the accepted order of
precedence is not “Trotzky, Lenin, and Zinoviev” must be gall and
wormwood to Trotzky’s soul. His first outstanding characteristic is
overweening ambition; his second--egoism; his third--cruelty; and all
three are sharpened by intelligence and wit of unusual brilliancy.
According to his intimate associates of former days, his nature is
by no means devoid of cordiality, but his affections are completely
subordinated to the promotion of his ambitious personal designs, and he
casts off friends and relatives alike, as he would clothing, the moment
they have served his purpose.
A schoolmate, prison-companion, and political colleague of Trotzky,
Dr. Ziv, who for years shared his labours both openly and secretly,
travelled with him to exile, and was associated with him also in New
York, thus sums up his character:
“In Trotzky’s psychology there are no elements corresponding to the
ordinary conceptions of brutality or humanity. In place of these there
is a blank.... Men, for him, are mere units--hundreds, thousands, and
hundreds of thousands of units--by means of which he may satisfy his
_Wille zur Macht_. Whether this end is to be achieved by securing for
those multitudes conditions of supreme happiness or by mercilessly
crushing or exterminating them, is for Trotzky an unessential detail,
to be determined not by sympathies or antipathies but by the
accidental circumstances of the moment.”[4]
The same writer throws some interesting light on how Bronstein chose
his pseudonym. His present assumed name of “Trotzky” was that of the
senior jailer of the Tsarist prison-house at Odessa, where Bronstein
and Dr. Ziv were incarcerated. The latter describes this jailer as
“a majestic figure, leaning on his long sabre and with the eagle eye
of a field-marshal surveying his domain and feeling himself a little
tsar.”[5] The motive impelling Trotzky to use a pseudonym is peculiar.
“To call himself Bronstein would be once and for all to attach to
himself the hated label designating his Jewish origin, and this was the
very thing that he desired everyone to forget as quickly and thoroughly
as possible.” This estimation is the more valuable in that the writer,
Dr. Ziv, is himself a Jew.
The creation and control of a huge militarist machine have hitherto
afforded full and ample scope for the exercise of Trotzky’s superhuman
energy and indomitable will. Regarding the Russian peasants and workers
as cattle and treating them as such, he naturally strove at an early
date, by coercion or by flattering and alluring offers, to persuade
the trained Tsarist officer staff, with whose technical knowledge he
could not dispense, to serve the Red flag. The ideas of a “democratic
army” and “the arming of the entire proletariat,” the demand for which,
together with that for the constituent assembly, had served to bring
Trotzky and his associates to power, were discarded the moment they had
served their purpose.
The same measures as were employed by the Tsarist army were introduced
to combat wholesale robbery and pillage--an inevitable phenomenon
resulting from Bolshevist agitation--and with even greater severity.
Soldiers’ committees were soon suppressed. The “revolutionary”
commanders of 1918, untrained and unqualified for leadership, were
dismissed and supplanted by “specialists”--that is, officers of
the Tsarist army, closely watched, however, by carefully selected
Communists.
The strength of the Red army now undoubtedly lies in its staff of
officers. As the indispensability of expert military knowledge became
more and more apparent, the official attitude toward Tsarist officers,
which was one of contempt and hostility as bourgeois, became tempered
with an obvious desire to conciliate. The curious phenomenon was
observable of a ribald Red Press, still pandering to mob-instincts,
denouncing all Tsarist officers as “counter-revolutionary swine,”
while at the same time Trotzky, in secret, was tentatively extending
the olive branch to these same “swine,” and addressing them in tones
of conciliation and even respect. Officers were told that it was fully
understood that, belonging to “the old school,” they could not readily
acquiesce in all the innovations of the “proletarian” régime, that it
was hoped in course of time they would come to adapt themselves to it,
and that if in the meantime they would “give their knowledge to the
revolution” their services would be duly recognized.
“We found it difficult to believe it was Trotzky talking to us,” an
officer said to me after the extraordinary meeting of commissars and
naval specialists of the Baltic fleet, at which Trotzky abolished
the committee system and restored the officers’ authority. My friend
participated at the meeting, being a high official in the Admiralty.
“We all sat round the table in expectation, officers at one end and the
Communist commissars at the other. The officers were silent, for we did
not know why we had been called, but the commissars, all dressed in
leathern jerkins, sprawled in the best chairs, smoking and spitting,
and laughing loudly. Suddenly the door opened and Trotzky entered. I
had never seen him before and was quite taken aback. He was dressed
in the full uniform of a Russian officer with the sole exception of
epaulettes. The dress did not suit him, but he held himself erect and
leader-like, and when we all stood to receive him the contrast between
him and the commissars, whom he himself had appointed, was striking.
When he spoke we were thunderstruck--and so were the commissars--for
turning to our end of the table he addressed us not as ‘Comrades’
but as ‘Gentlemen,’ thanked us for our services, and assured us he
understood the difficulties, both moral and physical, of our situation.
Then he suddenly turned on the commissars and to our amazement poured
forth a torrent of abuse just such as nowadays we are accustomed to
hear directed against ourselves. He called them skulking slackers,
demanded to know why they dared sit in his presence with their jerkins
all unbuttoned, and made them all cringe like dogs. He told us that
the ship committees were abolished; that thenceforward the commissars
were to have powers only of political control, but none in purely naval
matters. We were so dumbfounded that I believe, if Trotzky were not a
Jew, the officers would follow him to a man!”
The position of officers was grievous indeed, especially of those who
had wives and families. Flight with their families was difficult, while
flight without their families led to the arrest of the latter the
moment the officer’s absence was noted. Remaining in the country their
position was no better. Evasion of mobilization or a default in service
alike led to reprisals against their kith and kin. Trotzky’s approaches
were not an effort to make them serve--that was unavoidable--but to
induce them to serve well. Alone his persuasions might have availed
little. But with the passage of time the bitter disappointment at
continued White failures, and growing disgust at the effect of Allied
intervention, coming on the top of constant terror, drove many to
desperate and some to genuine service in the Red ranks, believing that
only with the conclusion of war (irrespective of defeat or victory)
could the existing régime be altered. I believe that the number of
those who are genuinely serving, under a conviction that the present
order of things is a mere passing phase, is considerably larger than is
generally supposed outside Russia.
One of the most pitiable sights I have ever witnessed was the
arrest of women as hostages because their menfolk were suspected of
anti-Bolshevist activities. One party of such prisoners I remember
particularly because I knew one or two of the people in it. They were
all ladies, with the stamp of education and refinement--and untold
suffering--on their faces, accompanied by three or four children, who
I presume had refused to be torn away. In the hot summer sun they
trudged through the streets, attired in the remnants of good clothing,
with shoes out at heel, carrying bags or parcels of such belongings
as they were permitted to take with them to prison. Suddenly one of
the women swooned and fell. The little party halted. The invalid was
helped to a seat by her companions, while the escort stood and looked
on as if bored with the whole business. The guards did not look
vicious, and were only obeying orders. When the party moved forward
one of them carried the lady’s bag. Standing beneath the trees of the
Alexander Garden I watched the pitiful procession, despair imprinted on
every face, trudge slowly across the road and disappear into the dark
aperture of _No. 2 Goróhovaya_.
Meanwhile their husbands and sons were informed that a
single conspicuous deed on their part against the White or
counter-revolutionary armies would be sufficient to secure the release
of their womenfolk, while continued good service would guarantee
them not only personal freedom, but increased rations and freedom
from molestation in their homes. This last means a great deal when
workmen or soldiers may be thrust upon you without notice at any time,
occupying your best rooms, while you and your family are compelled to
retire to a single chamber, perhaps only the kitchen.
Such duress against officers showed an astute understanding of the
psychology of the White armies. A single conspicuous deed for the
Bolsheviks by an officer of the old army was sufficient to damn that
officer for ever in the eyes of the Whites, who appeared to have no
consideration for the painful and often hopeless position in which
those officers were placed. It was this that troubled my commander
after his accidental destruction of the right bridge. I am told that
General Brusilov’s son was shot by Denikin’s army solely because he was
found in the service of the Reds. The stupidity of such conduct on the
part of the Whites would be inconceivable were it not a fact.
[Illustration: A CERTIFICATE OF IDENTIFICATION]
The complete absence of an acceptable programme alternative to
Bolshevism, the audibly whispered threats of landlords that in the
event of a White victory the land seized by the peasants would be
restored to its former owners, and the lamentable failure to understand
that in the anti-Bolshevist war politics and not military strategy
must play the dominant rôle, were the chief causes of the White
defeats. This theory is borne out by all the various White adventures,
whether of Kolchak, Denikin, or Wrangel, the course of each being,
broadly speaking, the same. First the Whites advanced triumphantly,
and until the character of their régime was realized they were hailed
as deliverers from the Red yoke. The Red soldiers deserted to them in
hordes and the Red command was thrown into consternation. There was
very little fighting considering the vast extent of front. Then came a
halt, due to incipient disaffection amongst the civil population in the
rear. Requisitioning, mobilization, internecine strife, and corruption
amongst officials, differing but little from the régime of the Reds,
rapidly alienated the sympathies of the peasantry, who revolted against
the Whites as they had against the Reds, and the position of the White
armies was made untenable. The first sign of yielding at the front
was the signal for a complete reversal of fortune. In some cases
this process was repeated more than once, the final result being a
determination on the part of the peasantry to hold their own against
Red and White alike.
Most Russian _émigrés_ now admit not only that warring against the
so-called Soviet Republic has served above all else to consolidate the
position of the Bolshevist leaders, but also that the failure of the
anti-Bolsheviks was due largely to their own deficient administration.
But there are many who continue to lay the blame on any one’s shoulders
rather than their own, and primarily upon England--a reproach which is
not entirely unjustified, though not for quite the reasons that these
critics suppose. For while the Allies and America all participated in
military intervention, it was England who for the longest time, and at
greatest cost to herself, furnished the counter-revolution with funds
and material. Her error and that of her associates lay in making no
effort to control the political, _i. e._ the most important, aspect
of the counter-revolution. England appeared to assume that the moral
integrity of Kolchak, Denikin, and Wrangel, which has never been called
in question by any serious people, was the gauge of the political
maturity of these leaders and of the Governments they brought into
being. Herein lay the fundamental misjudgment of the situation. The
gulf that yawns between the White leaders and the peasantry is as wide
as that between the Communist Party and the Russian people. Not in
Moscow, but in the camps of the White leaders themselves were sown the
seeds of the disasters that befell them, and this was apparent neither
to England nor to any other foreign Power.
By the end of 1919 the higher military posts in the Red army, such as
those of divisional-, artillery-, and brigade-commanders, were occupied
almost exclusively by former Tsarist generals and colonels. The
Bolsheviks are extremely proud of this fact, and frequently boast of it
to their visitors. These officers are treated with deference, though as
known anti-Bolsheviks they are closely watched, and their families are
granted considerable privileges.
In lower ranks there is a predominance of “Red” officers, turned
out from the Red cadet schools where they are instructed by Tsarist
officers. Few of the Red cadets are men of education. They are,
however, on the whole, strong supporters of the soviet régime. But
civilians and even private soldiers also find their way by good
service to positions of high responsibility, for the Red army offers a
field for advancement not, as in the White armies, according to rank,
“blood,” or social standing, but primarily for talent and service.
Merit is the only accepted standard for promotion. Common soldiers
have become expert regimental commanders, artillery officers, and
cavalry leaders. In many cases opportunities which were formerly
unknown, but are now offered, make of such people, of whose courage
and determination there can be no doubt, convinced supporters of the
present régime. Provided he signs on as a member of the Communist
Party any clever adventurer who devotes his talent to the Red army can
rise to great heights and make for himself a brilliant career. Had
the Russian people really been fired by revolutionary enthusiasm or
devotion to their present rulers, the Red army would, under the system
introduced by Trotzky, have rapidly become not merely a formidable but
an absolutely irresistible military force.
* * * * *
But the Russian people are not and never will be fired by enthusiasm
for the Communist revolution. As long as the White armies were
permeated by the landlord spirit there was indeed an incentive to
defend the land, an incentive exploited to the full by the Bolsheviks
in their own favour. I witnessed a striking instance of this on the
north-west front. One of the generals of the White army operating
against Petrograd issued an order to the peasant population to the
effect that “this year the produce of the land might be reaped and sold
by those who had sown and tilled it [that is, by the peasants who had
seized it], but next year the land must be restored to its rightful
owners [that is, the former landlords].” Needless to say, the effect
was fatal, although this same general had been welcomed upon his
advance three weeks before with unprecedented rejoicings. Moreover,
this particular order was republished by the Bolsheviks in every paper
in Soviet Russia and served as powerful propaganda amongst the peasant
soldiers on every front.
In November, 1920, I talked to soldiers fresh from the Red ranks in the
northern Ukraine. I found that peasants, who were willing enough to
join insurgents, feared to desert to Wrangel’s army. Asked why they had
not deserted on the southern front, they replied with decision and in
surprising unison: “_Rangelya baimsya_”; which was their way of saying:
“We are afraid of Wrangel.” And this in spite of Wrangel’s much-vaunted
land law, which promised the land to the peasants. But _behind_ Wrangel
they knew there stood the landlords.
But the first campaign of the Red army against a non-Russian foe,
Poland, which did not threaten the peasants’ possession of the land,
resulted in complete collapse at the very height of Red power. And
this is the more significant in that quite an appreciable degree of
anti-Polish national feeling was aroused in Russia, especially amongst
educated people, and was exploited by the Bolsheviks to strengthen
their own position. But there was one striking difference between the
Red and the Polish armies, which largely accounted for the outcome of
the war. Badly officered as the Poles were by incompetent, selfish, or
corrupt officers, the rank and file of the Polish army was fired even
in adversity by a spirit of national patriotism unseen in Europe since
the first days of the Great War. It only required the drafting in of
a few French officers, and the merciless weeding out of traitors from
the Polish staff, to make of the Polish army the formidable weapon
that swept the Red hordes like chaff before it. In the Red army, on
the other hand, the situation was precisely the reverse. The Reds
were officered be commanders who were either inspired by anti-Polish
sentiment, or believed, as the Communist leaders assured them, that
the revolutionary armies were to sweep right across Europe. But the
rank and file were devoid of all interest in the war. Thus they only
advanced as long as the wretchedly led Poles retreated too rapidly to
be caught up, and the moment they met organized resistance the Russian
peasants either fled, deserted, or mutinied in their own ranks.
The Polish victory effectually dispelled the myths of peasant support
of the revolution and the invincibility of the Red army, but beyond
that it has served no useful purpose as far as Russia is concerned.
Rather the contrary, for by temporarily aligning Russian intellectuals
on the side of the Communists it served even more than the civil wars
to consolidate the position of the Soviet Government.
The terror that prevails in the Red army, and is, when all is said and
done, the measure most relied upon by the Soviet Government to ensure
discipline, leads at times to extraordinary and apparently inexplicable
episodes. In September, 1920, I witnessed the retaking of the fortress
of Grodno by the Poles. As I watched the shells falling over the
trenches on the outskirts of the town I thought of the wretches lying
in them, hating the war, hating their leaders, and merely waiting
till nightfall to creep out of the city. Though it was said that
Grodno was defended by some of the best Red regiments, the retreat was
precipitate. But a day or two later near Lida they unexpectedly turned
and gave battle. Trotzky was, or had recently been in that sector, and
had ordered that ruthless measures should be taken to stay the flight.
One Polish division was suddenly attacked by five Red divisions. Four
of the latter were beaten, but the last, the 21st, continued to fight
with savage fury. Three times they bore down in massed formation. It
came to a hand-to-hand fight in which the Poles were hard pressed. But
after the third attack, which fortunately for the Poles was weaker, an
entirely unforeseen and incomprehensible event occurred. The soldiers
of the 21st Soviet division killed every one of their commissars and
Communists and came over to the Poles in a body with their guns!
It would seem that conscious human intelligence was completely benumbed
at such times. Impelled by despair, people act like automatons,
regardless of danger, knowing that worse things await them (and
especially their kith and kin) if they are detected in attempted
disloyalty. People may, by terror, be made to fight desperately
for a thing they do not believe in, but there comes after all a
breaking-point.
* * * * *
The means of producing terror in the army are Special Departments
of the Extraordinary Commission, and Revolutionary Tribunals. The
methods of the Extraordinary Commission have been described. In the
army to which my regiment belonged the order for the formation of
Revolutionary Tribunals stated that they “are to be established in
each brigade area, to consist of three members, and to carry out on
the spot investigations of insubordination, refusal to fight, flight
or desertion by complete units, such as sections, platoons, companies,
etc.” Sentences (including that of death) were to be executed
immediately. Sentences might also be conditional, that is, guilty
units might be granted an opportunity to restore confidence by heroic
conduct and thus secure a reversal of the verdict. At the same time,
“separate specially reliable units are to be formed of individuals
selected from steady units, whose duty will be to suppress all
insubordination. These selected units will also execute the sentences
of death.”
Desertion from the Red army is not difficult, but if one lives in or
near a town one’s relatives pay. Desertion, being what the Bolsheviks
call a “mass-phenomenon,” is combated by special Commissions for
Combating Desertion, established in every town and large village and
at frontier points. The number of these commissions is indicative of
the prevalence of desertion. Their agents hang about the outskirts of
towns, at cross-roads, frontier stations, etc., prodding truckloads
of hay or looking under railroad cars. If a man is known to be a
deserter but cannot be ferreted out, the property of his relatives
is confiscated and they are liable to be arrested unless they inform
against him or he returns voluntarily.
The peasantry sometimes try to organize desertion. Pickets are posted
to give warning of the approach of punitive detachments. In Ukrainia,
where the peasants show more vigour and capacity for self-defence
against the Communists than in the north, villagers organize themselves
into armed bands led by non-commissioned officers of the old army and
effectively hold the punitive detachments at bay for considerable
periods.
The calling up of peasants is at times so difficult a business that
when a regiment has been mobilized it is often sent down to the front
in sealed cars. Arms are rarely distributed until the moment of
entering the fray, when a machine-gun is placed behind the raw troops,
and they are warned that they have the option either of advancing or
being fired on from the rear. Provincial districts are cautioned that
every village in which a single deserter is discovered will be burned
to the ground. But though several such orders have been published, I do
not know of a case in which the threat has been put into execution.
Mobilization of town-workers is naturally easier, but here also
subterfuge has sometimes to be resorted to. In Petrograd I witnessed
what was announced to be a “trial” mobilization; that is, the workers
were assured that they were not going to the front and that the
trial was only to practise for an emergency. The result was that the
prospective recruits, glad of an extra holiday plus the additional
bread ration issued on such occasions, turned up in force (all, of
course, in civilian clothes) and the trial mobilization was a great
success. A portion of the recruits were taken to the Nicholas Station
and told they were going out of town to manœuvre. Imagine their
feelings when they discovered that they were locked into the cars,
promptly despatched to the front, and (still in civilian clothes)
thrust straight into the firing line!
Every man of the Red army is supposed to have taken the following oath:
“I, a member of a labouring people and citizen of the Soviet Republic,
assume the name of warrior of the Workers’ and Peasants’ Army. Before
the labouring classes of Russia and of the whole world I pledge myself
to bear this title with honour, conscientiously to study the science of
war, and as the apple of my eye to defend civil and military property
from spoliation and pillage. I pledge myself strictly and unswervingly
to observe revolutionary discipline and perform unhesitatingly all
orders of the commanders appointed by the Workers’ and Peasants’
Government. I pledge myself to refrain and to restrain my comrades from
any action that may stain and lower the dignity of a citizen of the
Soviet Republic, and to direct my best efforts to its sole object, the
emancipation of all workers. I pledge myself at the first call of the
Workers’ and Peasants’ Government to defend the Soviet Republic from
all dangers and assault on the part of her foes, and to spare neither
my energies nor life in the struggle for the Russian Soviet Republic,
for the cause of Socialism and the fraternity of peoples. If with evil
intent I infringe this my solemn oath may my lot be universal contempt
and may I fall a victim to the ruthless arm of revolutionary law.”
Very few Red army men have any recollection of having taken this oath,
which is reserved for officers or for propagandist purposes. If it is
taken by the common soldiers at all it is read out to whole battalions
at a time and they are told when to raise their hands.
The method of administering justice followed by the Revolutionary
Tribunals is primitive. The judges are guided by no rules,
instructions, or laws, but solely by what is known as “revolutionary
conscience.” The fact that the judges are often illiterate does not
affect the performance of their functions, for since none but ardent
Communists are admitted to these posts, their revolutionary consciences
must _ipso facto_ always be clear.
The malpractices of these courts reached such a pitch that late in 1920
the Bolsheviks, after abolishing all jurisprudence at the universities,
were actually combing out from the ranks of the army all who had
technical knowledge of Tsarist law, offering them posts as legal
“specialists,” as had already been done with military, industrial, and
agricultural experts.
The Bolsheviks discriminate minutely between regiments, which are
classed as reliable, semi-reliable, and doubtful. The backbone of
the army is composed of regiments which consist purely of convinced
Communists. These units, called by such names as the “Iron Regiment,”
the “Death Regiment,” the “Trotzky Regiment,” etc., have acted up to
their names and fight with desperate ferocity. Reliance is also placed
in non-Russian regiments, Lettish, Bashkir, Chinese troops, etc.,
though their numbers are not large. The total number of Communists
being exceedingly small, they are divided up and distributed amongst
the remaining regiments in little groups called “cells.” The size of
a “cell” averages about ten per cent. of the regimental strength.
It is this political organization of the Red army for purposes of
propaganda and political control which is its most interesting feature,
distinguishing it from all other armies. Isolated as the soldiers are
from their homes, unhabituated in many cases by nearly seven years
of war from normal occupations, and visibly better provisioned than
civilians, it is felt that the peasant will be most susceptible to
Communist propaganda under military conditions.
The system of political control is as follows. Side by side with the
hierarchy of military officers there exists a corresponding hierarchy
of members of the Communist Party, small numerically, but endowed with
far-reaching powers of supervision. These branches of the Communist
Party extend their tentacles to the smallest unit of the army, and not
a single soldier is exempt from the omnipresent Communist eye. The
responsible Communist official in a regiment is called the Commissar,
the others are called “political workers,” and constitute the “cell.”
In my own unit, numbering nearly 200 men, there were never more than
half-a-dozen Communists or “political workers,” and they were regarded
with hatred and disgust by the others. Their chief duty obviously
was to eavesdrop and report suspicious remarks, but their efforts
were crowned with no great success because the commissar, to whom the
Communists reported, was himself a sham Communist and a personal friend
of my commander.
In other regiments in Petrograd with which I was in touch it was
different. I particularly remember one commissar, formerly a locksmith
by trade. He had had an elementary education and was distinguished by a
strange combination of three marked traits: he was an ardent Communist,
he was conspicuously honest, and he was an inveterate toper. I will
refer to him as Comrade Morozov. Knowing that drunkenness was scheduled
as a “crime unworthy of a Communist,” Morozov tried to cure himself
of it, a feat which should not have been difficult considering that
vodka had been almost unobtainable ever since the Tsar prohibited its
production and sale at the beginning of the Great War. But Morozov
nevertheless fell to vodka every time there was a chance. On the
occasion of the wedding of a friend of his who was a speculator (and a
genuine speculator) in foodstuffs, he invited two or three regimental
companions, one of whom I knew well, to the feast. Although Petrograd
was starving, there was such an abundance of good things at this repast
and such a variety of wines and spirits, extracted from cellars known
only to superior “speculators” who supplied important people like
commissars, that it lasted not only one night, but was continued on
the morrow. Morozov disappeared from his regiment for three whole days
and would undoubtedly have lost his post and, in the event of the full
truth leaking out, have been shot, had not his friends sworn he had had
an accident.
Yet Morozov could not have been bribed by money, and would have
conscientiously exposed any “speculator” he found in his regiment. He
was thoroughly contrite after the episode of the marriage feast. But it
was not the wanton waste of foodstuffs that stirred his conscience, nor
his connivance and participation in the revels of a “speculator,” but
the fact that he had failed in his duty to his regiment and had only
saved his skin by dissembling. His sense of fairness was remarkable
for a Communist. At the elections to the Petrograd Soviet for which he
was candidate for his regiment, he not only permitted but positively
insisted that the voting should be by secret ballot--the only case of
secret voting that I heard of. The result was that he was genuinely
elected by a large majority, for apart from this quite unusual fairness
he was fond of his soldiers and consequently popular. His intelligence
was rudimentary and may be described as crudely locksmithian. An eddy
of fortune had swept him to his present pinnacle of power, and judging
others by himself he imagined the soviet régime was doing for everyone
what it had done for him. Possessing plenty of heart but a weak head,
he found considerable difficulty in reconciling the ruthless attitude
of the Communists toward the people with his own more warm-hearted
inclinations, but the usual argument served to stifle any inner
questionings--namely, that since the Communists alone were right, all
dissentients must be “enemies of the State” and he was in duty bound to
treat them as such.
During the six or eight weeks that I had the opportunity to study
Morozov after his appointment as regimental commissar, a perceptible
change came over him. He grew suspicious and less frank and outspoken.
Though he would scarcely have been able to formulate his thoughts
in words, it was clear that the severity with which any criticism,
even by Communists, of political commands from above was suppressed,
and the rigid enforcement of iron discipline, within and without the
party, differed greatly from the prospect of proletarian brotherhood
which he had pictured to himself. At the same time he could only
escape from these shackles by becoming an “enemy of the State,” and
finally he, like all Communists, attributed the non-realization of
his dreams to the insidious machinations of the scapegoats designated
by his superiors, the non-Bolshevist Socialists, the Mensheviks and
Socialist-Revolutionaries, who must be exterminated wholesale.
Morozov’s responsibilities, like those of all commissars, were heavy.
Though in purely military affairs he was subordinate to the regimental
commander, he was responsible for the latter’s loyalty and equally
answerable with him for discipline in the ranks; besides which the
responsibility for all political propaganda (regarded by the Government
as of paramount importance) and even for the accuracy of army service
rested upon him. A regimental commissar’s responsibilities are, in
fact, so great that he can rarely secure his own safety without having
recourse to spying provocation, and “experimental denunciation.”
Even Morozov had to resort to questionable strategy of this nature to
forestall possible treachery in others for which he would have been
held responsible. Having been informed by a member of his “cell”
that the conduct of a junior officer gave rise to misgivings, he had
a purely fictitious charge made against him merely to see how the
officer would be affected by it. It was found, as was not unusual,
that the original complaint of the “political worker” was due to sheer
spite, and that nothing had been further from the mind of the young
officer, who was of a mild disposition, than to conspire against the
all-powerful commissar. Anonymous written denunciations of individuals,
charging them with counter-revolutionary activities, are of frequent
occurrence, and commissars, terrified for their own safety, will rather
err at the cost of the accused than risk their own positions through
leniency or over-scrupulous attention to justice.
There is an intermediate grade between a “cell” leader and a commissar,
known as a political guide. The latter has not the authority of a
commissar but represents a stepping-stone to that dignity. Political
guides have duties of investigation and control, but their chief task
is to rope in the largest possible number of neophytes to the Communist
Party. The whole power of the Bolshevist Government is founded on the
diligence, zeal, and--it must be added--unscrupulousness of these
various Communist officials. All sorts of instructions and propaganda
pamphlets and leaflets are received by the “cells” in enormous
quantities, and they have to see that such literature is distributed
in the ranks and amongst the local population. It is read but little,
for the soldiers and peasants are sick of the constant repetition
of worn-out propagandist phrases. It was hoped originally that by
the never-ending repetition of the words “vampires,” “bourgeois,”
“class-struggle,” “bloodsucking capitalists and imperialists,” and
so forth, some at least of the ideas presented would sink into the
listeners’ minds and be taken for good coinage. But the results are
almost negligible. It says much for the latent intelligence of the
Russian peasant and worker that in spite of it all the members of
“the party” number no more than some half-million, half of whom would
be anything but Communists if they could. Propagandist leaflets are
used principally for wrapping up herrings and making cigarettes, for
_mahorka_ (the pepper-like tobacco beloved of the Russian soldier) is
still issued in small quantities.
The only positive result which has been obtained by the above
propaganda is the rousing of hatred and revenge against everything
“bourgeois.” The word _bourgeois_ is as foreign to the Russian language
as it is to the English, and the average Russian soldier’s conception
of “bourgeois” is simply everything that is above his understanding.
But by cleverly associating the idea of “bourgeois” with that of
opulence and landed possessions, Bolshevist agitators have made great
play with it.
Yet even this has cut less deep than might have been expected,
considering the effort expended. Propaganda on a wide scale is possible
only in the towns and the army, and the army is after all but a very
small percentage of the whole peasantry. The vast majority of the
peasants are at home in their villages, and Bolshevist propaganda and
administration reach no farther than a limited area on either side of
Russia’s sparse network of railways.
Every Communist organization throughout Russia has to present
periodical reports to headquarters on the progress of its labours.
It goes without saying that, from fear of censure, such reports
are invariably drawn up in the most favourable light possible.
Particularly is this the case in the army. If the membership of a
“cell” does not increase, the supervising commissar or political guide
will be asked the reason why. He will be publicly hauled over the coals
for lack of energy, and unless his labours fructify he is liable to be
lowered to an inferior post. Thus it is in the interest of Communist
officials to coax, cajole, or even compel soldiers to enter the ranks
of the party. The statistics supplied are collected at headquarters and
summaries are published. It is according to these statistics that the
membership of the Communist Party is a little more than half a million,
out of the 120 or 130 million inhabitants of Soviet Russia.
* * * * *
Another feature of the Red army which is worthy of note is the group
of organizations known as “Cultural-Enlightenment Committees,” which
are entrusted with the work of entertaining and “enlightening” the
soldiers. Being partly of an educational character the collaboration
of non-Communists on these committees is indispensable, though
rigid Communist control renders free participation by intellectuals
impossible. There is also a lack of books. A department at
headquarters, in which Maxim Gorky is interested, deals with the
publication of scientific and literary works, but compared with the
deluge of propagandist literature the work of his department is nil.
The cultural-enlightenment committees arrange lectures on scientific
subjects, dramatic performances, concerts, and cinema shows. The
entertainments consist chiefly of the staging of “proletarian” plays,
written to the order of the department of propaganda. From the artistic
standpoint these plays are exceedingly bad--unmitigated Bolshevist
atrocities--but their strong point is that they represent the
class-struggle in a vivid and lurid light. As no one would go to see
them alone, other plays, usually farces, or musical items are thrown in
by way of attraction. Propagandist speeches by Lenin, Trotzky, Zinoviev
and others, reproduced on gramophones, are sometimes reeled off in
the intervals. Schools of reading and writing are attached to some
cultural-enlightenment committees.
In my regiment we had no cultural-enlightenment committee. Being
unnecessary for purposes of control they were not so universal as the
“cells,” but depended to some extent for their establishment upon the
enterprise of the commissar. Living, however, mostly in Petrograd, I
came in touch through friends with other regiments than my own, and
attended entertainments got up by cultural-enlightenment committees
until I knew the propagandist speeches, which were always the same,
almost by heart. Let me describe one such meeting. It was in the
regiment of which Morozov was commissar. At this particular meeting I
was to have functioned as amateur accompanist and should have done so
if one of the singers, from a Petrograd theatre, had not unexpectedly
brought a professional with her.[6]
The organizer of this entertainment, though he played but little part
in the performance, deserves a word of mention. As a sailor, of about
twenty years of age, he differed greatly from his fellows. He was not
ill-favoured in looks, unintelligent but upright, and occupied the post
of chairman of the Poor Committee of a house where I was an habitual
visitor. I will refer to him as Comrade Rykov. Like Morozov, Rykov
had had only an elementary education and knew nothing of history,
geography, or literature. History for him dated from Karl Marx, whom
he was taught to regard rather as the Israelites did Moses; while his
conception of geography was confined to a division of the world’s
surface into Red and un-Red. Soviet Russia was Red, capitalistic
countries (of which he believed there were very few) were White; and
“White” was an adjective no less odious than “bourgeois.” But Rykov’s
instincts were none the less good and it was with a genuine desire to
better the lot of the proletariat that he had drifted into “the party.”
Under the Tsarist régime he had suffered maltreatment. He had seen his
comrades bullied and oppressed. The first months of the revolution had
been too tempestuous, especially for the sailors, and the forces at
issue too complex, for a man of Rykov’s stamp to comprehend the causes
underlying the failure of the Provisional Government. To him the Soviet
Government personified the Revolution itself. A few catch-phrases, such
as “dictatorship of the proletariat,” “tyranny of the bourgeoisie,”
“robber-capitalism,” “Soviet emancipation” completely dominated his
mind and it seemed to him indisputably just that the definition of
these terms should be left absolutely to the great ones who had
conceived them. Thus Rykov, like most Communists, was utterly blind
to inconsistencies. The discussion of policy, especially of foreign
policy, of which the rest of the world hears so much, was not attempted
by him. Rykov accepted his directions unhesitatingly from “those who
knew.” He never asked himself why the party was so small, and popular
discontent he attributed, as he was told to do, to the pernicious
agitation of Mensheviks and Socialist-Revolutionaries, who were but
Monarchists in disguise. Rykov was the type of man the Bolsheviks were
striving their utmost to entice into the Communist Party. He had three
supreme recommendations: he was a untiring worker, his genuinely good
motives would serve to popularize the party, and he never thought. It
is independent thinkers the Bolsheviks cannot tolerate. Rykov, like a
good Communist, accepted the dogma propounded from above and that was
the alpha and omega of his creed. But when it came to doing something
to improve the lot of his fellows, and, incidentally, to lead them into
the true Communist path, Rykov was all there. In other realms he would
have made an ideal Y.M.C.A. or Salvation Army worker, and it was not
surprising that he was in great demand whenever it was a question of
amusing or entertaining the soldiers.
The hall was decorated with red flags. Portraits of Lenin, Trotzky,
Zinoviev, and of course of Karl Marx, wreathed in red bunting and
laurels, decorated the walls. Over the stage hung a crude inscription
painted on cardboard: “Long live the Soviet Power,” while similar
inscriptions, “Proletarians of all countries, unite,” and “Long live
the World Revolution,” were hung around. The audience, consisting of
the regiment and numerous guests, sat on wooden forms and disregarded
the injunction not to smoke.
The entertainment began with the singing of the “Internationale,” the
hymn of the World Revolution. The music of this song is as un-Russian,
unmelodious, banal, and uninspiring as any music could possibly be. To
listen to its never-ending repetition on every possible and impossible
occasion is not the least of the inflictions which the Russian people
are compelled to suffer under the present dispensation. When one
compares it with the noble strains of the former national anthem,
or with the revolutionary requiem which the Bolsheviks have happily
not supplanted by any atrocity such as the “Internationale” but have
inherited from their predecessors, or with national songs such as
_Yeh-Uhnem_, or for that matter with any Russian folk-music, then the
“Internationale” calls up a picture of some abominable weed protruding
from the midst of a garden of beautiful and fragrant flowers.
The “Internationale” was sung with energy by those in the audience who
knew the words, and the accompanist made up with bombastic pianistic
flourishes for the silence of those who did not.
Nothing could have afforded a more remarkable contrast than the item
that followed. It was an unaccompanied quartette by four soldiers who
sang a number of Russian folk-songs and one or two composed by the
leader of the four. If you have not listened to the Russian peasants
of a summer evening singing to accompany their dances on the village
green, you cannot know exactly what it meant to these peasant soldiers,
cooped in their city barracks, to hear their songs re-sung. The singers
had rehearsed carefully, the execution was excellent, the enthusiasm
they aroused was unbounded, and they were recalled again and again.
They would probably have gone on endlessly had not the Jewish agitator,
who was acting as master of ceremonies and who had to make a speech
later, announced that they must get along with the programme. The
contrast between Bolshevism and Russianism could never have been more
strikingly illustrated than by this accident of the “Internationale”
being followed by Russian folk-songs. The former was an interpretation
in sound of all the drab, monotonous unloveliness of the supposedly
proletarian régime, the latter an interpretation in music of the
unuttered yearnings of the Russian soul, aspiring after things
unearthly, things beautiful, things spiritual.
There followed a selection of songs and romances by a lady singer from
one of the musical-comedy theatres, and then the agitator rose. The
job of a professional agitator is a coveted one in Red Russia. A good
agitator is regarded as a very important functionary, and receives
high pay. Coached in his arguments and phraseology in the propagandist
schools of the capitals, he has nothing whatever to do but talk as
loudly and as frequently as possible, merely embellishing his speeches
in such a way as to make them forceful and, if possible, attractive.
He requires no logic, and consequently no brains, for he is guaranteed
against heckling by the Bolshevist system of denouncing political
opponents as “enemies of the State” and imprisoning them. Thus the
entire stock-in-trade of a professional agitator consists of “words,
words, words,” and the more he has of them the better for him.
The youth who mounted the stage and prepared to harangue the audience
was nineteen years of age, of criminal past (at that very time he was
charged by the Bolsheviks themselves with theft), and possessed of
pronounced Hebrew features. His complexion was lustrous, his nose was
aquiline and crooked, his mouth was small, and his eyes resembled
those of a mouse. His discourse consisted of the usual exhortations
to fight the landlord Whites. He was violent in his denunciation of
the Allies, and of all non-Bolshevist Socialists. His speech closed
somewhat as follows:
“So, comrades, you see that if we give in to the Whites all your land
will go back to the landowners, all the factories to the money-makers,
and you will be crushed again under the yoke of the murderous bankers,
priests, generals, landlords, police, and other hirelings of bourgeois
tyranny. They will whip you into slavery, and they will ride to wealth
on the bleeding backs of you, your wives, and your children. Only we
Communists can save you from the bloody rage of the White demons. Let
us defend Red Petrograd to the last drop of our blood! Down with the
English and French imperialist bloodsuckers! Long live the proletarian
World Revolution!”
Having ended his speech, he signalled to the accompanist to strike
up the “Internationale.” Then followed another strange contrast, one
of those peculiar phenomena often met with in Russia, even in the
Communist Party. A modest, nervous, and gentle-looking individual
whom I did not know, as different from the previous speaker as water
from fire, made a strangely earnest speech, urging the necessity of
self-education as the only means of restoring Russia’s fallen fortunes.
At the admission of fallen fortunes the Jew looked up with displeasure.
He had sung the glories of the Red administration and the exploits of
the Red army. It was not enough, said the speaker, that Russia had
won the treasured Soviet Power--that, of course, was an inestimable
boon--but until the people dragged themselves out of the morass of
ignorance they could not profit by its benefits. The masses of Russia,
he urged, should set strenuously to work to raise themselves culturally
and spiritually, in order to fit themselves for the great task they
were called upon to perform, namely, to effect the emancipation of the
workers of all the world.
The “Internationale” was not sung when he concluded. There was too much
sincerity in his speech, and the bombastic strains of that tune would
have been sadly out of place. The rest of the programme consisted of
two stage performances, enacted by amateurs, the first one a light
comedy, and the second a series of propagandist tableaux, depicting
the sudden emancipation of the worker by the Soviet Power, heralded
by an angel dressed all in red. In one of these Comrade Rykov proudly
participated. In the concluding tableau the Red angel was seen guarding
a smiling workman and his family on one side, and a smiling peasant and
family on the other, while the audience was invited to rise and sing
the “Internationale.”
Of conscious political intelligence in the cultural-enlightenment
committees there is none, nor under “iron party discipline” can
there possibly be any. All Communist agitators repeat, parrot-like,
the epithets and catch-phrases dictated from above. None the less,
despite their crudity and one-sidedness, these committees serve a
positive purpose in the Red army. By the provision of entertainment
the savagery of the soldiery has been curbed and literacy promoted.
If they were non-political and run by intelligent people with the
sole object of improving the minds of the masses they might be made
a real instrument for the furtherance of education and culture. At
present they are often grotesque. But representing an “upward” trend,
the cultural-enlightenment committees form a welcome contrast to the
majority of Bolshevist institutions.
* * * * *
Our survey of the essential features of the Red army is now complete
and may be summed up as follows:
1. A military machine, with all the attributes of other armies but
differing in terminology. Its strength at the close of 1920 was said to
be about two million, but this is probably exaggerated.
2. A concomitant organization, about one-tenth in size, of the
Communist Party, permeating the entire army, subjected to military
experts in purely military decisions, but with absolute powers
of political and administrative control, supplemented by Special
Departments of the Extraordinary Commission, Revolutionary Tribunals,
and Special Commissions for Combating Desertion.
3. A network of Communist-controlled propagandist organizations called
Cultural-Enlightenment Committees, whose object is the entertainment
and education of the soldiers.
Tractable, docile, and leaderless though the Russian people are, the
machine which has been built up in the Red army is still a monument to
the inflexible will and merciless determination of its leader, Trotzky.
Its development has been rapid and is perhaps not yet complete. Trotzky
would make of it an absolutely soulless, will-less, obedient instrument
which he can apply to whatsoever end he thinks fit. Unless a popular
leader appears, the army is Trotzky’s as long as he can feed it.
There are those who have long believed an internal military coup
to be imminent, organized by old-time generals such as Brusilov,
Baluev, Rattel, Gutov, Parsky, Klembovsky and others, whose names are
associated with the highest military posts in Soviet Russia. Three
things militate against the early success of such a coup. First, the
experience of internal conspiracies shows it to be next to impossible
to conspire against the Extraordinary Commission. Secondly, the memory
of White administrations is still too fresh in the minds of the common
soldier. Thirdly, these generals suffer from the same defect as
Wrangel, Denikin, and Kolchak, in that they are not politicians and
have no concrete programme to offer the Russian people.
The local popularity of peasant leaders such as the “little fathers,”
Balahovitch in Bielorusia and Makhno in Ukrainia, who denounce
Bolsheviks, Tsars, and landlords alike, shows that could a bigger man
than these be found to fire the imagination of the peasantry on a
nation-wide scale the hoped-for national peasant uprising might become
a reality. Until such a figure arises it is not to outside pressure or
internal militarist conspiracies that we must look for the decay of
Bolshevism, but must seek the signs of it in the very heart and core
of the Communist Party. Such signs are already coming to light, and
indicate sooner or later cataclysmic developments--unless the decay is
forestalled by what Pilsudski, the Socialist president of the Polish
Republic, foresees as a possibility. Pilsudski spent many years in
exile in Siberia for revolutionary agitation against the Tsar and knows
Russia through and through. He foresees the possibility that the entire
Russian population, maddened with hunger, disease, and despair, may
eventually rise and sweep down on western Europe in a frantic quest for
food and warmth.
Such a point will not be reached as long as the peasant, successfully
defying Bolshevist administration, continues to produce sufficient for
his own requirements. It needs, however, but some severe stress of
nature, such as the droughts which periodically visit the country, to
reduce the people to that condition. Will anything be able to stop such
an avalanche? Should it ever begin, the once so ardently looked-for
Russian steam roller will at last have become an awful, devastating
reality.