GENERAL MARKOV.
The duties of the Quartermaster-General in the Stavka were many-sided
and complex. As in the European Army, it proved therefore necessary to
create the office of a second Quartermaster-General. The first dealt
merely with matters concerning the conduct of operations. I invited
General Markov to accept this new office. His fate was linked up with
mine until his glorious death at the head of a Volunteer Division.
That Division afterwards bore with honour his name, which has become
legendary in the Volunteer Army. At the outbreak of war he was a
lecturer at the Academy of the General Staff. He went to the war as
Staff-Officer to General Alexeiev. Then he joined the 19th Division,
and in December, 1914, he served under my command as Chief-of-Staff
of the 4th Rifle Brigade, which I then commanded. When he came to our
Brigade he was unknown and unexpected, as I had asked the Army G.H.Q.
for another man to be appointed. Immediately upon his arrival he told
me that he had recently undergone a slight operation, was not feeling
well, was unable to ride, and would not go up to the front line. I
frowned, and the Staff exchanged significant glances. The "Professor,"
as we afterwards often called him as a friendly jest, was obviously out
of place in our midst.
I started one day with my staff, all mounted, towards the line where
my riflemen were fiercely fighting, near the town of Friestach. The
enemy was upon us, and the fire was intense. Suddenly, repeated showers
of shrapnel came down upon us. We wondered what it meant, and there
was Markov gaily smiling, openly driving to the firing line in a huge
carriage. "I was bored staying in, so I have come to see what is going
on here."
From that day the ice was broken, and Markov assumed a proper place in
the family of the "Iron Division." I have never met a man who loved
military work to such an extent as Markov. He was young (when he was
killed in the summer of 1918 in action he was only 39 years of age),
impetuous, communicative, eloquent. He knew how to approach, and
closely, too, any _milieu_--officers, soldiers, crowds--sometimes far
from sympathetic, and how to instil into them his straightforward,
clear, and indisputable articles of faith. He was very quick to grasp
the situation in battle, and made work much easier for me. Markov had
one peculiarity. He was quite exceptionally straightforward, frank,
and abrupt when attacking those who, in his opinion, did not display
adequate knowledge, energy, or pluck. While he was at Headquarters
the troops therefore viewed him (as in the Brigade) with a certain
reserve, and sometimes even with intolerance (as in the Rostov period
of the Volunteer Army). No sooner, however, did Markov join the
Division than the attitude towards him became one of love on the part
of the riflemen, or even enthusiasm on the part of the Volunteers.
The Army had its own psychology. It would have no abruptness and
blame from Markov as a Staff Officer. But when _their_ Markov, in his
usual short fur coat with his cap at the back of his head, waving
his inevitable whip, was in the rifleman's firing line, under the
hot fire of the enemy, he could be as violent as possible, he could
shout and swear--his words provoked sometimes sorrow, sometimes mirth,
but there was always a sincere desire to be worthy of his praise. I
recall the heavy days which the Brigade endured in February, 1915.
The Brigade was pushed forward, was surrounded by a semi-circle of
hills occupied by the enemy, who was in a position to snipe us. The
position was intolerable, the losses were heavy, and nothing could be
gained by keeping us on that line. But the 14th Infantry Division next
to us reported to the Army H.Q.: "Our blood runs cold at the thought
of abandoning the position and having afterwards once more to attack
the heights which have already cost us rivers of blood." I remained.
Matters, however, were so serious that one had to be in close touch
with the men. I moved the field H.Q. up to the position. Count Keller,
in command of our section, having travelled for eleven hours in deep
mud and over mountain paths, arrived at that moment, and rested for a
while.
"Let us now drive up to the line."
We laughed.
"How shall we drive? Would you come to the door, enemy machine-guns
permitting?"
Count Keller left fully determined to extricate the Brigade from the
trap. The Brigade was melting away. In the rear there was only one
ramshackle bridge across the San. We were in the hands of fate. Will
the torrent swell? If it does, the bridge will be swept away, and
our retreat will be cut off. At this difficult moment the Colonel in
command of the 13th Rifle Regiment was severely wounded by a sniper
as he was coming out of the house where the H.Q. were stationed. All
officers of his rank having been killed, there was nobody to replace
him. I was pacing up and down the small hut, in a gloomy mood. Markov
rose.
"Give me the 13th Regiment, sir," said Markov.
"Of course, with pleasure."
I had already thought of doing so. But I hesitated to offer it to
Markov lest he should think it was my intention to remove him from the
Staff. Markov afterwards went with his regiment from one victory to
another. He had already earned the Cross of St. George and the sword
of St. George, but for nine months the Stavka would not confirm his
appointment, because he had not reached the dead line of seniority.
I recall the days of the heavy Galician retreat, when a tidal wave
of maddened peasants, with women, children, cattle and carts, was
following the Army, burning their villages and houses.... Markov was in
the rear, and was ordered promptly to blow up the bridge at which this
human tide had stopped. He was, however, moved by the sufferings of the
people, and for six hours he fought for the bridge at the risk of being
cut off, until the last cart of the refugees had crossed the bridge.
His life was a perpetual fiery impulse. On one occasion I had lost
all hope of ever seeing him again. In the beginning of September,
1915, in the course of the Lutsk operation, in which our Division
so distinguished itself, between Olyka and Klevan, the left column
commanded by Markov broke the Austrian line and disappeared. The
Austrians closed the line. During the day we heard no news, and the
night came. I was anxious for the fate of the 13th Regiment, and rode
to a high slope, observing the enemy's firing line in the silent
distance. Suddenly, from afar, from the dense forest, in the far rear
of the Austrians, I heard the joyous strains of the Regimental March of
the 13th. What a relief it was!
"I got into such a fix," said Markov afterwards, "the devil himself
could not have known which were my riflemen and which were Austrians. I
decided to cheer up my men and to collect them by making the band play."
Markov's column had smashed the enemy, had taken two thousand prisoners
and a gun, and had put the Austrians to disorderly flight towards
Lutsk.
In his impulsiveness he sometimes went from one extreme to another,
but, as soon as matters grew really desperate, he immediately regained
self-possession. In October, 1915, the 4th Rifle Division was
conducting the famous Chartoriisk operation, had broken the enemy on a
front about twelve miles wide and over fifteen miles deep. Brussilov,
having no reserves, hesitated to bring up troops from another front
in order to take advantage of this break. Time was short. The Germans
centred their reserves, and they were attacking me on all sides. The
situation was difficult. Markov, from the front line, telephoned: "The
position is peculiar. I am fighting the four quarters of the earth. It
is so hard as to be thoroughly amusing." Only once did I see him in a
state of utter depression, when, in the spring of 1915, near Przemyshl,
he was removing from the firing line the remnants of his companies. He
was drenched with the blood of the C.O. of the 14th Regiment, who had
been standing by, and whose head had been torn off by a shell.
Markov never took any personal precautions. In September, 1915, the
Division was fighting in the direction of Kovel. On the right our
cavalry was operating, was moving forward irresolutely, and was
perturbing us by incredible news of the appearance of important enemy
forces on its front, on our bank of the River Styr. Markov became
annoyed with this indecision, and reported to me: "I went to the Styr
with my orderly to give the horses a drink. Between our line and the
Styr there is no one, neither our cavalry nor the enemy."
I reported him for promotion to General's rank, as a reward for several
battles, but my request was not granted on the plea that he was "a
youngster." Verily youth was a great defect. In the spring of 1916
the Division was feverishly preparing for the break-through at Lutsk.
Markov made no secret of his innermost wish: "It is to be either one
or the other--a wooden cross or the Cross of St. George of the Third
Degree." But the Stavka, after several refusals, compelled him to
accept "promotion"--once again the office of Divisional Chief-of-Staff.
(This measure was due to a great dearth of officers of the General
Staff, because the normal activities of the Academy had come to an
end. Colonels and Generals were made to hold for a second time and on
special conditions the office of Chief of Divisional Staff before they
were appointed to Divisional Commands.) After several months on the
Caucasian Front, where Markov suffered from inaction, he lectured for
some time at the Academy, which had then reopened, and later returned
to the Army. At the outbreak of the Revolution he was attached to the
Commanding Officer of the Tenth Army as General for special missions.
* * * * *
In the beginning of March a mutiny broke out at Briansk in the big
garrison. It was attended by pogroms and by the arrest of officers.
The townfolk were terribly excited. Markov spoke several times in the
crowded Council of Military Deputies. After tempestuous and passionate
debates, he succeeded in obtaining a resolution for restoring
discipline and for freeing twenty of those arrested. Nevertheless,
after midnight several companies in arms moved to the railway station
in order to do away with Markov and with the arrested officers. The mob
was infuriated and Markov seemed to be doomed, but his resourcefulness
saved the situation. Trying to make his voice heard above the tumult,
he addressed an impassioned appeal to the mob. The following sentence
occurred in his speech: "Had any of my 'Iron' Riflemen been here, he
would have told you who General Markov is." "I served in the 13th
Regiment," came a voice from the crowd.
Markov pushed aside several men who were surrounding him, advanced
rapidly towards the soldier, and seized him by the scruff of the neck.
"You? You? Then why don't you thrust the bayonet into me? The
enemy's bullet has spared me, so let me perish by the hand of my own
rifleman...."
The mob was still more intoxicated, but with admiration. Accompanied by
tempestuous cheering, Markov and the arrested officers left for Minsk.
Markov was lifted by the wave of events, and gave himself entirely to
the struggle, without a thought for himself or for his family. Faith
and despair succeeded each other in his mind; he loved his country and
felt sorry for the Army, which never ceased to occupy a prominent place
in his heart and in his mind.
Reference will be made more than once in the course of this narrative
to the personality of Markov, but I could not refrain from satisfying
my heart's desire in adding a few laurels to his wreath--the wreath
that was placed upon his tomb by two faithful friends, with the
inscription:--
"He lived and died for the good of his country."