GENERAL KORNILOV'S MOVEMENT AND ITS REPERCUSSION ON THE SOUTH-WEST
FRONT.
On August 27th I was thunderstruck by receiving from the Stavka
news of the dismissal of General Kornilov from the post of Supreme
Commander-in-Chief.
A telegram, unnumbered, and signed "Kerensky," requested General
Kornilov to transfer the Supreme Command temporarily to General
Lukomsky, and, without awaiting the latter's arrival to proceed to
Petrograd. Such an order was quite illegal, and not binding, as the
Supreme Commander-in-Chief was in no way under the orders either of the
War Minister or of the Minister-President, certainly not of Comrade
Kerensky.
General Lukomsky, Chief-of-Staff, answered the Minister-President in
Telegram No. 640, which I give below. Its contents were transmitted
to us, the Commanders-in-Chief by Telegram No. 6412. which I have
not preserved. Its tenor, however, is clear from the deposition of
Kornilov, in which he says: "I ordered that my decision (not to
surrender my command, and first to elucidate the situation), and that
of General Lukomsky, be communicated to the Commanders-in-Chief on all
fronts."
Lukomsky's telegram, No. 640, ran as follows:
All persons in touch with military affairs were perfectly aware
that, in view of the existing state of affairs, when the actual
direction of internal policy was in the hands of irresponsible
public organisations, having an enormously deleterious effect on
the Army, it would be impossible to resurrect the latter; on the
contrary, the Army, properly speaking, would cease to exist in
two or three months. Russia would then be obliged to conclude a
shameful separate peace, whose consequences to the country would
be terrible. The Government took half measures, which, changing
nothing, merely prolonged the agony, and, in saving the Revolution,
did not save Russia. At the same time, the preservation of the
benefits of the Revolution depended solely on the salvation of
Russia, for which purpose the first step must be the establishment
of a really strong Government and the reform of the home Front.
General Kornilov drew up a series of demands, the execution of
which has been delayed. In these circumstances, General Kornilov,
actuated by no motives of personal gain or aggrandisement,
and supported by the clearly-expressed will of the entire
right-thinking sections of the Army and the Civil community, who
demanded the speedy establishment of a strong Government for the
saving of their native land, and of the benefits of the Revolution,
considered more severe measures requisite which would secure the
re-establishment of order in the country.
The arrival of Savinkov and Lvov, who in your name made General
Kornilov similar proposals,[67] only brought General Kornilov to a
speedy decision. In accordance with your suggestions, he issued his
final orders, which it is now too late to repeal.
Your telegram of to-day shows that you have now altered your
previous decision, communicated in your name by Savinkov and
Lvov. Conscience demands from me, desiring only the good of the
Motherland, to declare to you absolutely that it is now impossible
to stop what was commenced with your approval; this will lead but
to civil war, the final dissolution of the Army, and a shameful
separate peace, as a consequence of which the conquests of the
Revolution will certainly not be secured to us.
In the interests of the salvation of Russia you must work with
General Kornilov, and not dismiss him. The dismissal of General
Kornilov will bring upon Russia as yet unheard-of horrors.
Personally, I decline to accept any responsibility for the Army,
even though it be for a short period, and do not consider it
possible to take over the command from General Kornilov, as this
would occasion an outburst in the Army which would cause Russia to
perish.
LUKOMSKY.
All the hopes which had been entertained of the salvation of the
country and the regeneration of the Army by peaceful means had now
failed. I had no illusions as to the consequences of such a conflict
between General Kornilov and Kerensky, and had no hopes of a favourable
termination if only General Krymov's Corps did not manage to save the
situation. At the same time, not for one moment did I consider it
possible to identify myself with the Provisional Government, which I
considered criminally incapable, and therefore immediately despatched
the following telegram:
I am a soldier and am not accustomed to play hide and seek. On
the 16th of July, in a conference with members of the Provisional
Government, I stated that, by a series of military reforms, they
had destroyed and debauched the Army, and had trampled our battle
honours in the mud. My retention as Commander-in-Chief I explained
as being a confession by the Provisional Government of their
deadly sins before the Motherland, and of their wish to remedy the
evil they had wrought. To-day I receive information that General
Kornilov, who had put forward certain demands capable yet of saving
the country and the Army,[68] has been removed from the Supreme
Command. Seeing herein a return to the planned destruction of the
Army, having as its consequence the downfall of our country, I
feel it my duty to inform the Provisional Government that I cannot
follow their lead in this.
145 DENIKIN.
Simultaneously Markov sent a telegram to the Government stating his
concurrence in the views expressed by me.[69]
At the same time I ordered the Stavka to be asked in what way I could
assist General Kornilov. He knew that, besides moral support, I had no
actual resources at my disposal, and, therefore, thanking me for this
support, demanded no more.
I ordered copies of my telegrams to be sent to all
Commanders-in-Chief, the Army Commanders of the South-Western Front,
and the Inspector-General of Lines of Communication. I also ordered
the adoption of measures which would isolate the Front against the
penetration of any news of events, without the knowledge of the Staff,
until the conflict had been decided. I received similar instructions
from the Stavka. I think it hardly necessary to state that the entire
Staff warmly supported Kornilov, and all impatiently awaited news from
Moghilev, still hoping for a favourable termination.
Absolutely no measures for the detention of any persons were taken:
this would have been of no use, and did not enter into our plans.
Meanwhile, the Revolutionary Democracy at the Front were in great
agitation. The members of the Front Committee on this night left their
quarters and lodged in private houses on the outskirts of the town.
The assistants of the Commissar were at the time away on duty, and
Iordansky himself in Zhitomir. An invitation from Markov to him to come
to Berdichev had no result, either that night or on the 28th. Iordansky
expected a "treacherous ambush."
Night fell, a long, sleepless night, full of anxious waiting and
oppressive thoughts. Never had the future of the country seemed so
dark, never had our powerlessness been so galling and oppressive. A
historic tragedy, played out far from us, lay like a thundercloud over
Russia. And we waited, waited.
I shall never forget that night. Those hours still live in mental
pictures. Successive telegrams by direct wire: Agreement apparently
possible. No hopes of a peaceful issue. Supreme Command offered to
Klembovsky. Klembovsky likely to refuse. One after another copies of
telegrams to the Provisional Government from all Army Commanders of my
Front, from General Oelssner and several other Senior Officers, voicing
their adherence to the opinion expressed in my telegram. A touching
fulfilment of their _civic duty_ in an atmosphere saturated with hate
and suspicion. Their _soldier's oath_ they could no longer keep.
Finally, the voice of despair from the Stavka. For that is the only
name for the General Orders issued by Kornilov on the night of the 28th:
The telegram of the Minister-President, No. 4163[70] in its entire
first part is a downright lie: it was not I who sent Vv. N. Lvov, a
member of the State Duma, to the Provisional Government. He came to
me as a messenger from the Minister-President. My witness to this
is Alexei Aladyin, member of the State Duma.
The great provocation, placing the Motherland on the turn of fate,
is thus accomplished.
People of Russia. Our great Motherland is dying. Her end is near.
Forced to speak openly, I, General Kornilov, declare that the
Provisional Government, under pressure from the Bolshevik majority
in the Soviets, is acting in complete accordance with the plans of
the German General Staff and simultaneously with the landing of
enemy troops near Riga, is killing the Army, and convulsing the
country internally.
The solemn certainty of the doom of our country drives me in these
terrible times to call upon all Russians to save their dying
native land. All in whose breasts a Russian heart still beats, all
who believe in God, go into the Churches, pray Our Lord for the
greatest miracle, the salvation of our dear country.
I, General Kornilov, son of a peasant Cossack, announce to all and
everyone that I personally desire nothing save the preservation of
our great Russia, and vow to lead the people, through victory over
our enemies, to a Constituent Assembly, when they themselves will
settle their fate and select the form of our new national life.
I cannot betray Russia into the hands of her ancient enemy--the
German race!--and make the Russian people German slaves. And I
prefer to die honourably on the field of battle, that I may not see
the shame and degradation of our Russian land.
People of Russia, in your hands lies the life of your native land!
This order was despatched to the Army Commanders for their information.
The next day one telegram from Kerensky was received at the
Commissariat, and from then all our communications with the outside
world were interrupted.[71]
Well, the die was cast. A gulf had opened between the Government and
the Stavka, to bridge which was now impossible.
On the following day, the 28th, the Revolutionary institutions,
seeing that absolutely nothing threatened them, exhibited a feverish
activity. Iordansky assumed the "military authority," made a series of
unnecessary arrests in Zhitomir among the senior officials of the Chief
Board of Supplies, and issued, under his signature and in his own name,
that of the Revolutionary organisations and that of the Commissary
of the Province, an appeal, telling, in much detail and in the usual
language of proclamations, how General Denikin was planning "to restore
the old régime and deprive the Russian people of Land and Freedom."
At the same time similar energetic work was being carried on in
Berdichev under the guidance of the Frontal Committee. Meetings of all
the organisations went on incessantly, along with the "education" of
the typical rear units of the garrison. Here the accusation brought
forward by the Committee was different: "The counter-Revolutionary
attempt of the Commander-in-Chief, General Denikin, to overthrow
the Provisional Government and restore Nicholas II. to the throne."
Proclamations to this effect were circulated in numbers among the
units, pasted on walls, and scattered from motor-cars careering through
the town. The nervous tension increased, the streets were full of
noise. The members of the Committee became more and more peremptory
and exigent in their relations with Markov. Information was received
of disorders which had arisen on the Lyssaya Gora (Bald Hill). The
Staff sent officers thither to clear up the matter and determine the
possibility of pacification. One of them--a Tchekh officer, Lieutenant
Kletsando--who was to have spoken with the Austrian prisoners, was
attacked by Russian soldiers, one of whom he wounded slightly. This
circumstance increased the disturbance still more.
From my window I watched the crowds of soldiers gathering on the
Lyssaya Gora, then forming in column, holding a prolonged meeting,
which lasted about two hours, and apparently coming to no conclusion.
Finally the column, which consisted of a troop of orderlies (formerly
field military police), a reserve _sotnia_, and sundry other armed
units, marched on the town with a number of red flags and headed by two
armoured cars. On the appearance of an armoured car, which threatened
to open fire, the Orenburg Cossack _sotnia_, which was on guard next
the Staff quarters and the house of the Commander-in-Chief, scattered
and galloped away. We found ourselves completely in the power of the
Revolutionary Democracy.
"Revolutionary sentries" were posted round the house. The Vice-President
of the Committee, Koltchinsky, led four armed "comrades" into the
house for the purpose of arresting General Markov, but then began to
hesitate, and confined himself to leaving in the reception-room of the
Chief-of-Staff two "experts" from the Frontal Committee to control his
work. The following wireless was sent to the Government: "General
Denikin and all his staff have been subjected to personal detention at
his Stavka. In the interests of the defence the guidance of the activity
of the troops has been left in their hands, but is strictly controlled
by the delegates of the Committee."
Now began a series of long, endless, wearisome hours. They will never
be forgotten. Nor can words express the depth of the pain which now
enveloped our hearts.
At 4 p.m. on the 29th Markov asked me into the reception-room,
where Assistant-Commissary Kostitsin came with ten to fifteen armed
Committee members and read me an "order from the Commissary of the
South-Western Front, Iordansky," according to which I, Markov, and
Quartermaster-General Orlov were to be subjected to preliminary arrest
for an attempt at an armed rising against the Provisional Government.
As a man of letters Iordansky seemed to have become ashamed of the
arguments about "land," "freedom," and "Nicholas II.," designed
exclusively for inflaming the passions of the mob.
I replied that a Commander-in-Chief could be removed from his post only
by the Supreme Commander-in-Chief or by the Provisional Government;
that Commissary Iordansky was acting altogether illegally, but that I
was obliged to submit to force.
Motor-cars drove up, accompanied by armoured cars, and Markov and I
took our seats. Then came the long waiting for Orlov, who was handing
over the files; then the tormenting curiosity of the passers-by. Then
we drove on to Lyssaya Gora. The car wandered about for a long time,
halting at one building after another, until at last we drove up to
the guard-house; we passed through a crowd of about a hundred men who
were awaiting our arrival, and were greeted with looks full of hatred
and with coarse abuse. We were taken into separate cells; Kostitsin
very civilly offered to send me any of my things I might require, but I
brusquely declined any services from him; the door was slammed to, the
key turned noisily in the lock, and I was alone.
In a few days the Stavka was liquidated. Kornilov, Lukomsky,
Romanovsky, and others were taken off to the Bykhov Prison.
The Revolutionary Democracy was celebrating its victory.
Yet at that very time the Government was opening wide the doors of the
prisons in Petrograd and liberating many influential Bolsheviks--to
enable them to continue, publicly and openly, their work of destroying
the Russian Empire.
On September 1 the Provisional Government arrested General Kornilov;
on September 4 the Provisional Government liberated Bronstein Trotsky.
These two dates should be memorable for Russia.
* * * * *
Cell No. 1. The floor is some seven feet square. The window is closed
with an iron grating. The door has a small peep-hole in it. The cell
is furnished with a sleeping bench, a table, and a stool. The air is
close--an evil-smelling place lies next door. On the other side is cell
No. 2, with Markov in it; he walks up and down with large, nervous
strides. Somehow or other I still remember that he makes three steps
along his cell, while I manage, on a curve, to make five. The prison
is full of vague sounds. The strained ear begins to distinguish them,
and gradually to make out the course of prison life, and even its
moods. The guards--I guess them to be soldiers of the prison guard
company--are rough and revengeful men.
It is early morning. Someone's voice is booming. Whence? Outside of
the window, clinging to the grating, hang two soldiers. They look at
me with cruel, savage eyes, and hysterically utter terrible curses.
They throw in something abominable through the open window. There is no
escape from their gaze. I turn to the door--there another pair of eyes,
full of hatred, peers through the peep-hole; thence choice abuse pours
in also. I lie down on the sleeping-bench and cover my head with my
cloak. I lie for hours. The whole day, one after another, the "public
accusers" replace each other at the window and at the door--the guards
allow all to come freely. And into the narrow, close kennel pours,
in an unceasing torrent, a foul stream of words, shouts, and curses,
born of immense ignorance, blind hate, and bottomless coarseness.
One's whole soul seems to be drenched with that abuse, and there is no
deliverance, no escape from this moral torture chamber.
What is it all about? "Wanted to open the Front" ... "sold himself
to the Germans"--the sum, too, was mentioned--"for twenty thousand
roubles" ... "wanted to deprive us of land and freedom." This
was not their own, this was borrowed from the Committee. But
Commander-in-Chief, General, gentleman--this, indeed, was their own!
"You have drunk our blood, ordered us about, kept us stewing in prison;
now we are free and you can sit behind the bars yourself. You pampered
yourself, drove about in motor-cars; now you can try what lying on a
wooden bench is, you ----. You have not much time left. We shan't wait
till you run away--we will strangle you with our own hands." These
warriors of the rear scarcely knew me at all. But all that had been
gathering for years, for centuries, in their exasperated hearts against
the power they did not love, against the inequality of classes, because
of personal grievances and of their shattered lives--for which someone
or other was to blame--all this now came to the surface in the form
of unmitigated cruelty. And the higher the standing of him who was
reckoned the enemy of the people, and the deeper his fall, the more
violent was the hostility of the mob and the greater the satisfaction
of seeing him in its hands. Meanwhile, behind the wings of the popular
stage stood the managers, who inflamed both the wrath and the delight
of the populace; who did not believe in the villainy of the actors,
but permitted them even to perish for the sake of greater realism in
the performance and to the greater glory of their sectarian dogmatism.
These motives of party policy, however, were called "tactical
considerations."
I lay, covered head and all by my cloak and, under a shower of oaths,
tried to see things clearly:
"What have I done to deserve this?"
I went through the stages of my life.... My father was a stern soldier
with a most kindly heart. Up to thirty years of age he had been a
peasant serf and was drafted into the Army, where, after twenty-two
years of hard service in the ranks, under the severe discipline of the
times of Nicholas I, he was promoted to the rank of 2nd Lieutenant.
He retired with the rank of Major. My childhood was hard and joyless,
amidst the poverty of a pension of 45 roubles a month. Then my father
died. Life became still harder. My mother's pension was 25 roubles
a month. My youth was passed in study and in working for my daily
bread. I became a volunteer in the Army, messing in barracks with the
privates. Then came my officer's commission, then the Staff College.
The unfairness of my promotion, my complaint to the Emperor against
the all-powerful Minister of War, and my return to the 2nd Artillery
Brigade. My conflict with a moribund group of old adherents of serfdom;
their accusation of demagogy. The General Staff. My practice command
of a company in the 183rd Pultussk Regiment. Here I put an end to the
system of striking the soldiers and made an unsuccessful experiment
in "conscious discipline." Yes, Mr. Kerensky, I did this also in my
younger days. I privately abolished disciplinary punishment--"watch
one another, restrain the weak-spirited--after all, you are decent
men--show that you can do your duty without the stick." I finished my
command: during the year the behaviour of the company had not been
above the average, it drilled poorly and lazily. After my departure the
old Sergeant-Major, Stsepoura, gathered the company together, raised
his fist significantly in the air and said distinctly, separating his
words:
"Now it is not Captain Denikin whom you will have. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sergeant-Major."
It was said, afterwards, that the company soon showed improvement.
Then came the war in Manchuria; active service; hopes for the
regeneration of the Army. Then an open struggle, in a stifled Press,
with the higher command of the Army, against stagnation, ignorance,
privileges and licence--a struggle for the welfare of the officer and
the soldier. The times were stern--all my service, all my military
career was at stake. Then came my command of a regiment, constant
care for the improvement of the condition of the soldiers, after my
Pultussk experience--strict service demands, but also respect for the
human dignity of the soldier. At that time we seemed to understand
one another and were not strangers. Then came war again, the "Iron"
Division, nearer relations with the rifleman and work with him in
common. The staff was always near the positions, so as to share mud,
want of space, and dangers with the men. Then a long, laborious path,
full of glorious battles, in which a common life, common sufferings
and common fame brought us still closer together, and created a mutual
faith and a touching proximity.
No, I have never been an enemy to the soldier.
I threw off my cloak, and, jumping from the wooden bed, went up to the
window, where the figure of a soldier clung to the grating, belching
forth curses.
"You lie, soldier! It is not your own words that you are speaking. If
you are not a coward, hiding in the rear, if you have been in action,
you have seen how your officers could die. You have seen that they...."
His hands loosened their grip and the figure disappeared. I think it
was simply because of my stern address, which, despite the impotence of
a prisoner, produced its usual effect.
Fresh faces appeared at the window and at the peep-hole in the door.
It was not always, however, that we met with insolence alone.
Sometimes, through the assumed rudeness of our gaolers we could see
a feeling of awkwardness, confusion and even commiseration. But of
these feelings they were ashamed. On the first cold night, when we
had none of our things, a guard brought Markov, who had forgotten
his overcoat, a soldier's overcoat, but half an hour later--whether
he had grown ashamed of his good action, or whether his comrades had
shamed him--he took it back. In Markov's cursory notes we find: "We
are looked after by two Austrian prisoners.... Besides them, we have
as our caterer a soldier, formerly of the Finland Rifles (a Russian),
a very kind and thoughtful man. During our first days he, too, had a
hard time of it--his comrades gave him no peace; now, however, matters
are all right; they have quieted down. His care for our food is simply
touching, while the news he brings is delightful in its simplicity.
Yesterday, he told me that he would miss us when we are taken away.
"I soothed him by saying that our places would soon be filled by new
generals--that all had not yet been destroyed."
My heart is heavy. My feelings seem to be split in two: I hate and
despise the savage, cruel, senseless mob, but still I feel the old pity
for the soldier: an ignorant, illiterate man, who has been led astray,
and is capable both of abominable crimes and of lofty sacrifices!
Soon the duty of guarding us was given to the cadets of the 2nd
Zhitomir School of 2nd Lieutenants. Our condition became much easier
from the moral point of view. They not only watched over the prisoners,
but also guarded them from the mob. And the mob, more than once, on
various occasions, gathered near the guard-room and roared wildly,
threatening to lynch us. In such cases the company on guard gathered
hastily in a house nearly opposite us and the cadets on guard made
ready their machine-guns. I recall that, calmly and clearly realising
my danger, when the mob was especially stormy, I planned out my method
of self-defence: a heavy water-bottle stood upon my table; with it
I might hit the first man to break into my cell; his blood would
infuriate and intoxicate the "comrades," and they would kill me at
once, without torturing me....
With the exception, however, of such unpleasant moments, our life in
prison went on in a measured, methodical way; it was quiet and restful;
after the strain of our campaigning, and in comparison with the moral
suffering we had undergone, the physical inconveniences of the prison
régime were mere trifles. Our life was varied by little incidents.
Sometimes a Bolshevist cadet standing at the door would tell the sentry
loudly, so that his words might be heard in the cell, that at their
last meeting the comrades of Lyssaya Gora, having lost all patience,
had finally decided to lynch us, and added that this was what we
deserved. Another time, Markov, passing along the corridor, saw a cadet
sentry leaning on his rifle, with the tears streaming from his eyes--he
felt sorry for us. What a strange, unusual exhibition of sentiment in
our savage days.
For a fortnight I did not leave my cell for exercise, not wishing to be
an object of curiosity for the "comrades," who surrounded the square
before the guard-room and examined the arrested generals as if they
were beasts in a menagerie. I had no communication with my neighbours,
but much time for meditation and thought.
And every day as I open my window I hear from the house opposite a
high, tenor voice--whether of friend or foe I know not--singing:
"This is the last day that I ramble with you, my friends."