MOBILISATION
Mobilisation in Russia is an inevitably slow and difficult operation.
The circumstances under which it is effected render it almost
impossible to reduce it to a matter of automatic precision, as is the
case with the German Army. It is typically Russian: rather ponderous
and very human. The chances of its being successfully and quickly
accomplished are so slight compared with those of its proving an orgy
of confusion and disorganisation that nobody, least of all in Russia
itself, where businesslike methods are not expected of officials of
any sort, dared hope that it would be carried out without a hitch. The
Allies were apprehensive, the Kaiser was openly contemptuous and left
only second-line troops to guard his eastern frontiers until Russia
could extricate her army from the inevitable confusion and be worthy of
the attentions of the perfect Teutonic fighting machine.
The German, of course, with his keen materialism, has a reputation
for doing these things with an automatic efficiency. The Slav, on the
other hand, is of a very different temperament, and the Tzar’s army
has acquired, and deserved, a reputation for mismanagement. It is the
most human of armies, for certainly there never was one more given to
error. The Manchurian campaign was one of the worst muddles of modern
times. In comparison, the South African War was a model of efficient
management. It was always a case of the wrong thing at the wrong
moment: and even when there appeared to be a chance of the right thing
happening, corruption or ineptitude stepped in and stultified every
effort. Those who happened to be in Russia during that period will
remember that hardly a day passed without some fresh instance of the
national habit of blundering through. The railways were in a state of
frantic disorganisation; whole regiments got mislaid; food and clothing
were always lacking in spite of the most lavish expenditure. Worst of
all, numerous officials and Jewish contractors became suddenly and
mysteriously wealthy, and made small secret of the source of their
prosperity.
Nobody raised his voice in protest because nobody had expected anything
different. The orgy of mismanagement was accepted with a good-humoured
shrug of the shoulders. _Nitchevo_, it can’t be helped! That was the
comment of the fatalism which is at once the greatest weakness and
greatest strength of the Russian character.
Of course, there was excuse enough. Mobilisation is carried on in
the face of more difficulties in Russia than in any other country.
Everything militates against its speed and efficiency. It is all on so
vast a scale that it would seem impossible for human ingenuity to place
it on a systematised basis. The area of the Russian Empire is forty
times that of Germany, but its population is only three times as great.
The units to be concentrated are diffusely scattered; they have to be
gathered singly. The aggregate length of the Russian railway system is
only twice that of the German lines, and few of the Russian railways
have been laid with a view to meeting military needs. The majority of
the troops summoned to the colours have to traverse vast distances,
often on foot, before they can reach the railway which will take them
to their mobilisation centres. The sparseness of the population renders
it difficult for orders to filter through, and still more difficult for
troops to be quickly concentrated. A good deal must of necessity be
left to the zeal and initiative of the reservists themselves who, in
most cases, are utterly unreliable without supervision.
At the best, therefore, with good weather and good luck, the
mobilisation is but a slow process. Previous to the present war the
most obstinate optimist did not believe that, in the most favourable
circumstances, it could be completed in less than three weeks or a
month.
In the present case, too, there were special aggravating circumstances
which rendered success all the more doubtful. July had been a month
of labour disputes, and it seemed more than likely that the strikes
would seriously hamper the mobilisation. Moreover, the Russian military
plans were incomplete. A programme of reform was being pushed forward
with all possible speed, but it was not to be completed until 1916, at
least. The army was in a state of transition. A new system was being
imposed upon it, and it was by no means ready for the supreme test.
There was a general feeling that it would be better to rely on the old
system which, whatever its defects, had at least the merits of being
known and understood. A partial muddle was better than the risk of
absolute chaos.
The order for mobilisation, therefore, could not have come at a more
inopportune time. Russia, in spite of all official assurances to the
contrary, was unprepared.
It is well known that this inevitable slowness and possible impotence
on the part of Russia during the early period of the war was the
foundation on which the Kaiser constructed his plan of campaign. He
could, so he thought, smash the Allies in the West and return in time
to mete out similar treatment to the Russians before they could do any
damage in the East. Everything favoured the plan, which had all the
merits of simplicity and conciseness. Nobody who was acquainted with
the disadvantages under which Russia laboured could deny that, humanly
speaking, Germany was immune from a serious attack from Russia for
at least six weeks. Even that estimate seemed to err on the side of
optimism, for at that time there was no reason to suppose that Austria
would have much difficulty in defeating Serbia and menacing Russia with
a strong advance.
But among the many factors with which the Kaiser omitted to reckon must
be included General Soukhomlinov--the Russian Kitchener, as he has,
not inaptly, been called.
When the disastrous Manchurian campaign was ended, Russia sadly needed
a man who could take to heart the lessons of defeat and build up a new
and better army from the discredited fragments of the old. The moment
produced the man. Soukhomlinov, the greatest War Minister Russia has
known, has for the past nine years been engaged on an immense scheme
for the remodelling and reorganising of the army. Quietly and with
inexorable efficiency, he has cut away cancer after cancer and added
reform to reform. No problem has been too large, no detail too trivial,
and no circumstance too hopeless, for him to devote to it his tireless
energy. The whole military system from top to bottom, and in every nook
and cranny, has been renovated.
Soukhomlinov’s greatest merit is that, in planning and carrying this
huge scheme into effect, he has not fallen into the trap that lurks
in the path of every military reformer. Although working on western
lines, he has not attempted to imitate the German or any other army.
That would have been the obvious course for a man of less genius. But
Soukhomlinov had the greatness to realise that an imitation army can
never be satisfactory. An army must be national to the core, or it will
fail in its object. “What is health to the Russian is death to the
German,” is a Russian saying that is very true. And an attempt to force
Teuton temperaments into Slav bodies would result only in a bastard
production emphasising the defects of both.
Soukhomlinov knew that the Russian is the finest soldier in the world.
His bravery, his unquestioning obedience, his infinite capacity for
suffering and hardship, his stolid fatalism which makes him the same
in victory or defeat, all these qualities render him an ideal fighting
man. German helmets or the goose step would not add one jot to his
virtues. He has never had a chance, because he has never been properly
led or properly organised. It is in these two directions, therefore,
that General Soukhomlinov has concentrated his efforts. Under the
new regime the Russian officer has been transformed. The army is no
longer a hobby for fashionable young men, but a stern business in which
slackers and the inept are not wanted. The habit of heavy drinking
at night--which during the Manchurian campaign so often resulted in
such heavy slaughter in the morning--is a thing of the past. The
army requires clear heads, and Soukhomlinov has no use for befuddled
officers.
Efficient organisation is as vital to an army as efficient leadership,
and the greatest test of organisation is the mobilisation.
[Illustration]
Owing to the speed with which Germany and Austria can effect their
mobilisation, Russia must of necessity begin a European war on the
defensive. Consequently, her mobilisation bases are not situated on the
frontier, but at a considerable distance in the interior, at Warsaw,
and other towns lying behind the Vistula. These towns are protected
by a long chain of fortresses and fortified positions, stretching from
Kovno to Radom, and designed to hold an invading force in check until
the troops have been mobilised and the advance can begin.
The method by which the mobilisation is effected will be understood by
reference to the diagram. At the call to arms recruits and reservists
living at the outlying hamlets, _a a a_, make their way to the central
villages and towns, _b b_. This journey has usually to be performed
on foot, and may be anything up to fifty miles. At _b b_ the men are
collected in batches and passed on to the concentration centres, _c c
c_. For this journey railways are sometimes available, but in the more
remote districts the roads are, more often than not, the only means
of communication. The peasant soldiers troop into the concentration
centres in their ordinary dress, they leave them ready for the
field. All day long a constant stream of peasants is pouring into
the barracks, and a constant stream of soldiers, fully equipped for
hostilities, is pouring out. Regiments and battalions are formed. Then,
when all is complete, they pass on by train to the mobilisation base
_D_.
The success of the system obviously depends on the maintenance of an
even flow of men from _a_ and _D_. A delay or hitch at any point may
throw the whole process out of gear. The area covered is so vast, the
population so sparse, the army so huge, and the means of communication
from point to point leave so much to be desired that difficulties and
dangers spring up in every direction. An especially weak point about
the system is that in the early stages so much depends upon the men
themselves.
Ivan Ivan’ich, the Russian Tommy Atkins, is no better and no worse
than the rank and file of any army. He is not averse to temptation,
especially when it takes the form of alcohol. Vodka was the cause of
much of the muddle of the Manchurian mobilisation. In the present
instance, however, General Soukhomlinov very wisely decided to take no
risks. He decided on a bold stroke which, in the unsettled state of the
country at the beginning of the war, might easily have been the cause
of serious rioting. The Imperial ukase ordering the mobilisation was
followed by another which practically prohibited the sale of alcohol
in all districts likely to be affected by the military preparations.
The railway stations, concentration centres, and mobilisation bases
were signalled out for specially stringent regulations. There were also
severe pains and penalties for those who, in their patriotic fervour,
were inclined to be over-generous to the troops on their way to the
front.
This drastic measure was fully justified by the results. With nothing
to delay them, the men arrived punctually at their posts. They were
sober, and displayed all the virtues of sobriety. Their health and
temper were noticeably improved. There were none of the quarrels and
disturbances usually associated with mobilisation. The conduct of the
troops was in every way irreproachable. The worries and work of the
officers were lightened a hundredfold.
Russia, in short, provided the world with an object lesson in the value
of temperance.
Of course there was some grumbling. Men who had tramped fifty versts
or so to serve the “Little Father” thought that they were at least
entitled to drink his health and damnation to the _Nemetz_. But
generally the order of things was accepted with the unquestioning
stolidness of the Russian peasant. The “Little Father” had said, “No
vodka”--therefore, _nitchevo_, why complain?
The following description of the actual mobilisation is based upon
the letters written by Vasili Grigorovich, the cobbler of a little
town in the Ukraine, to an English friend. The bond between this
rather ill-assorted pair is Vasili’s unsatiable thirst for learning.
Self-taught, he reads everything and anything that comes his way, and
it was a chance conversation over an out-of-date newspaper during the
mending of the traveller’s boot that led to the friendship.
“The news that a general mobilisation was ordered reached the
village late in the afternoon. The Governor himself came to tell
us that the ‘Little Father’ is at war with the _Nemetz_, and that
we must all start off for Berlin at once. He is a witty man, our
Governor. I started getting ready, but Marya scolded me for not
being quick enough. Indeed, she scolded me all the time, even when
I bade her goodbye. That’s like our women. They always hide their
heartaches. And after all they are quite right, for what are their
sorrows compared with the orders of the Tzar? She swore at me and
said I was not fit to be a soldier, when I kissed her. But her
voice was thick and her eyes glistened. And Dimitri, who caught me
up later, told me that when he passed he saw her praying before our
ikon. It was the first time, too, that he had seen Marya weeping.
“She is a fine woman, though outwardly rough. I am very glad to
hear that the Tzar has ordered that the wives and families of the
soldiers shall be well supplied with money. He is a great Tzar.
However, it will be very lonely for Marya all through the winter,
and if it were not for thinking of her I should be quite happy.
“Dimitri and I had to tramp thirty-two versts--a good stretch.
We went some distance out of our way to reach an inn. But it was
closed by the Tzar’s orders. Well, the Little Father knows best.
“We decided to walk all through the night, because we both wanted
to be fighting the _Nemetz_ as soon as possible. We had not gone
far before a farm cart full of soldiers caught us up and they gave
us a lift. It was rather cold, but we did not mind. We talked
about the war, and the news about the inns. We are sure to win, but
it is rather hard on the innkeepers, who will lose a lot of money.
However, they are all rich.
“We reached ---- before dawn. The officer there was very surprised,
because the men from our district were not supposed to arrive until
late in the evening. He was rather cross too, because everybody was
coming too soon, and upsetting the arrangements. However, a landed
proprietor offered his mansion for the use of the soldiers. Fancy
that!
“The next day we marched to ----, where there is a railway station.
There are no trains for the ordinary passengers, because the Tzar
has taken them all for the soldiers. Fifty trainloads of soldiers
are passing through ---- every day! Dimitri said we should be able
to get drinks at the station, but he was wrong. I hear now that it
is a crime to give vodka to the soldiers.
“Our train was very full, because of the men all being so early. It
was rather uncomfortable, but we were all too glad to be going to
the front to notice it. At one station two boys, who had run away
from home and wanted to fight, were discovered by an officer and
turned out. They were very disappointed, but there was more room
for us.
“At last, after sixteen hours, we reached ----. At first we thought
that there was no accommodation for us, but we found that a camp
had been prepared for us. The town was very full of soldiers, but
they were all very orderly and quiet. The day after our arrival we
received our new uniforms, rifles and other things. The uniforms
are very smart, something like the English, I am told. The boots,
too, are excellent. The very best leather. It is evidently true
that the Tzar has made our army better than ever it was. It is a
bad lookout for the _Nemetz_. In these uniforms and boots we shall
be able to chase them all the way to Berlin quite comfortably.
“Our regiment is complete. To-morrow we start for Warsaw, where our
Army Corps is forming. In a few days we shall meet the _Nemetz_.
Good-bye.”
Among the Cossacks, who are, of course, a less reliable people than the
ordinary peasants, the mobilisation was no less smooth. A Government
official in the Ural provinces gives a vivid account of the scenes.
The Cossacks, it may be noted, supply their own horses, uniforms and
equipment.
“On July 31st the village awoke to find a red flag waving before
the Government building, the sign that a general mobilisation had
been ordered. Immediately everything was in a state of uproar.
Nobody knew who was the enemy and nobody cared. It was sufficient
that there was war. Only the women made wild conjectures as to whom
it was against. There was no thought for work. Horses were groomed,
uniforms donned, rifles and sabres cleaned with enthusiastic
vigour. Soon the Government veterinary surgeon took his stand
before the chief building and the work of examining the horses
began. Each man in turn brought up his horse and put it through
its paces. The test was most strict, and any animal showing the
slightest defect was promptly branded as useless. All day the work
continued, a crowd of women and children watching the proceedings.
At night the red flag was pulled down and a red lamp was hoisted in
its place. In the evening there was a great feast. A whole ox was
roasted, there was dancing among the younger people, but owing to
the new regulations there was practically no vodka. All through the
night men came riding into the village from the outlying districts.
“On the Sunday when the preparations were almost complete the
consecration service was held. The whole village assembled before
the little wooden church. It was a stirring sight to see these
great warriors in their full battle array kneeling before their
Maker and solemnly asking His aid. At the conclusion of the service
each man was blessed by the priest and anointed with holy water.
Then he led his horse away and received the blessings of his family.
“On the following day they set off on journey of thousands of
miles. The women, children and old men watched them. Their eyes
gleamed with tears and their breasts heaved. Then, when the last
man had disappeared from view, they turned away, walked to the
fields and took over the labours which the men had left unfinished.”
In the simple narrative of Vasili Grigorovich and the description of
the Cossack scenes may be found all the causes which contributed to
the startling success of the Russian mobilisation.
The organisation, thanks to the genius of Soukhomlinov, proved perfect.
The smallest detail had been prepared, and every possibility foreseen.
In no direction was there any fluster or confusion. The commissariat
and transport arrangements worked splendidly; the equipment of the
troops with the new service uniform--an idea borrowed from the results
of Britain’s South African experiences--was an unqualified success.
The uniform has been designed for business purposes only, and with no
regard for show. It is very similar to the British uniform; the chief
differences being that the Russian tunics are looser, and in place
of puttees, long boots are worn. Special attention has been given to
this latter detail. Manchuria taught Russia to realise the advantages
enjoyed by a well-shod army.
But perhaps the greatest triumph of the mobilisation was the prompt
and businesslike way in which the financial question was settled. All
who had suffered any loss as a result of the dislocation of trade
and traffic caused by the requisition of the railways and other
means of transport, were recompensed without delay. By utilising
the organisation of the zemstvos or local councils, it was possible
to prevent all distress and to make ample provision for the wives,
families, and other dependants of the men called to the colours.
Indeed, in Moscow and Southern Russia money has seldom been so
plentiful as it was during the period of the mobilisation, and many
families are better off now than they ever were.
Another contributing cause was the conduct and efficiency of both
officers and men. The former proved that they have taken the reforms of
the last few years thoroughly to heart. The latter showed that even the
lowest ranks felt that they were “Soukhomlinov’s men.” To some extent,
of course, their efficiency was due to their enforced sobriety. But
much of it arose from an honest determination to rise to the occasion.
Ivan Ivan’ich is taking this war very seriously. He is calmly confident
of his ability to win, and he is immensely proud of the new army, of
which he is a member. Moreover, he had an unlimited enthusiasm for the
war. He was anxious to be killing the hated _Nemetz_, who threatened
his own liberty and that of his brother Slavs, and he knew that the
better he behaved the sooner he would be at the front. There was no
mistaking his eagerness to do the right thing.
The following is an extract from the diary of a traveller, who spent
nearly thirty hours in Kiev waiting for a train to be available for
civilian passengers to Petrograd.
“Everywhere there are soldiers. There must be tens of thousands of
infantry, cavalry and artillery. They are constantly on the move.
In their peasant blouses, baggy trousers, and birch-bark shoes,
they pour in ceaseless streams into the barracks, where they are
served with their equipment. They issue forth transformed into as
smart soldiers as could be wished. All the uniforms are new, and
appear to be made of excellent material. They are greyish khaki
in hue, and not unlike the British service uniform in appearance.
Seven million brand-new uniforms of the finest quality! That gives
some idea of the millions which Russia has been quietly spending
on her army!
“The men are as proud as peacocks, and tremendously in earnest.
Ivan Ivanovich is a very important person just now, and he knows
it. Physically, he is splendid. Seldom tall, but always thick-set
and well proportioned, he is a first-class fighting man, and, with
his experience of Russia’s climate, he can endure practically any
hardship. I doubt if there are any troops living who will suffer
more and grumble less. That is the advantage of being a Russian.
And it is all done on the most frugal of vegetarian diets! What
would our Tommies say to a diet of black bread and fermented
cabbage!
“Those who doubted Russia’s military value should spend a few hours
in Kiev and note how regiment after regiment marches through with
never the slightest hitch or confusion. They should see these
sturdy Tommies, with their cruel rapier like bayonets always fixed.
They should hear their deep-throated war chants. Then they would
realise that Russia is going to play a very important part in this
war....”
It must not be forgotten that the nation itself was largely responsible
for the success of the mobilisation. The self-sacrificing enthusiasm of
all classes was a revelation to those who believed that Russia was in a
parlous condition internally. The inevitable losses and inconvenience
were cheerfully borne. The rich came forward in a wholly unprecedented
manner. In Russia, owing to the lack of a middle class, the distinction
between noble and peasant is most rigorously observed. The old days
of the serfdom have not been entirely forgotten. But during those
early weeks of August the national call was responded to with equal
enthusiasm by rich and poor. Mansions were placed at the disposal of
the peasant soldiers. Food and gifts were showered upon them; even
carriages were offered to help them on their way. The owner of an
estate near Novgorod, not only entertained, at his own expense, nearly
three hundred troops a day, but his wife and daughters served them with
their own hands. A year ago such an action would have meant social
ostracism. To-day it is an example which is being followed everywhere.
This _rapprochement_ between the classes will have effects extending
far beyond the mobilisation. They give promise of a new and happier
Russia, for Ivan Ivan’ich never forgets a kindness.
The enthusiasm of the people was evinced in a thousand different ways.
There was cheering and singing everywhere, but practical enthusiasm was
no less in evidence. Often it resulted in trouble. The impersonation
of reservists who had been called up, by those who had not, was very
frequent. In many cases the discovery of the trick ended in blows with
the result that neither proceeded to the front, the impersonator going
to gaol and the impersonated to the hospital. Thousands of boys ran
away from their homes in order to enlist. Some Polish boys living at
Vilna were so disappointed at being refused admission to the army on
account of their age that they formed themselves into an unofficial
patrol. Unfortunately they fell in with some Austrian Cavalry, and the
next day their bodies were discovered hanging from the branches of a
tree.
The enthusiasm was not confined to the men. Women and girls sacrificed
their tresses and disguised themselves as recruits. Some actually
managed to reach the front without being detected, and one even
contrived to enter the air service.
At no time during the mobilisation was the religious aspect of the war
allowed to be forgotten. Before starting on their journey reservists
knelt before their humble ikons. In every village the priest blessed
the troops as they passed. Ikons and sacred relics have been taken to
the front.
Petrograd witnessed the most impressive scenes. The most holy of all
ikons, the famous Smolensk, “Mother of God,” which is embellished
with jewels enough to ransom the Tzar himself, was carried in solemn
procession to Kazan Cathedral. Hundreds of thousands stood in the
streets through which the ikon passed. Every head was bared, a muttered
prayer was on every lip. Thousands were unable to gain admission into
the cathedral during the services, and gathered in the square outside,
sometimes to the extent of fifty thousand, chanting the responses and
singing the hymns. On the Sunday following the declaration of war, the
Tzar blessed the Russian arms and those of the Allies. The flags of the
nations were placed on the altar before the Smolensk ikon, and with all
the Byzantine pomp and circumstance of the Greek ritual the aid of the
Almighty was invoked.
Thus in most gratifying circumstances the news went forth that Russia
was ready. The mobilisation was sufficiently complete to warrant an
advance. The date was August 16th, barely a fortnight after the issue
of the general mobilisation order and a full month sooner than the
Kaiser had calculated. The number of men in the field cannot be stated
with accuracy. Experts have talked glibly of millions, but none know
the exact number of Russia’s fighting men except the Russian General
Staff, and doubtless the German. Four million men in the field and a
further three million in reserve may be taken as a likely estimate.
In any case the mobilisation was the finest feat of the war. It was
a triumph over almost insuperable difficulties and a miracle of
national organisation and effort. It was the most significant and most
threatening of the many clouds which were beginning to gather round
Germany.