THE DECEMBER ROYALIST AND BOLSHEVIST CONSPIRACY
The tenure of a dictator's office is very uncertain. He issues his orders, but if the army chiefs can escape from executing them they do so, on one pretext or another. The Russian character is most peculiar in this respect. It will obey one thing only—force. Patriotism and public spirit, as we know them, do not exist to any great extent. Every man looks at every order from the personal point of view—"How will this affect me?"—rarely, if ever, "How will it affect the country?"
It is remarkable how much Koltchak had already accomplished, but it seemed that his career might end at any moment, in spite of every precaution of his friends. Of these he had not many; no real dictator should expect to have any. No man will have many friends in Russia who puts personal questions second to the public welfare.
The preparations for the Perm offensive were well under way, when a dispatch came from General Dutoff, stating, "That in view of the pressure by our forces on their left the Bolshevik leaders had decided to, what they called, 'organise their enemies' rear.' That seventy of their best propagandist and most capable agents and officers had passed between his columns and were now distributed somewhere in our midst." All we could do was to wait, and see where this treacherous movement would show itself first.
The fact that Koltchak had declared for the calling of a National Assembly, elected by universal suffrage, to decide the future government of Russia, so soon as order was restored, had shattered completely the vision of the old army officers of a quick return to absolutism. His declaration against extremists on either side had driven Bolshevik and Tsarist into practically one camp. He was well known as a student of English customs and institutions and a pre-revolution advocate of constitutionalism. The Tsarist section hoped that his assumption of supreme authority was proof that he had discarded his democratic principles, but gradually his official declarations to the representative of the British Government leaked out and spread consternation in the ranks of both sections of the Absolutists. The Bolshevik leaders have never made any bones about their fear and dread of democracy as understood in England, and have declared they would prefer a return to the old régime rather than have a Constitution like that of England or America forced upon them. Hence there is no real difference of principle between the Bolshevik and the supporters of the old régime, only a difference as to who should wield the power. For the moment they let this minor point slip into the background, and combined for the destruction of the man who was the enemy of both.
About midnight, December 23, Russian Headquarters gave me the alarm. Shots were being fired in all directions, and a spent bullet struck my carriage while I was getting into my clothes. Horsemen in little groups were surrounding the Staffka without much sign of order. Having inspected my battalion at their emergency quarters, I called for a personal guard to escort me to Headquarters. I regret there was no impressionist artist with us to record the weird procession my guard made. When sheepskin coats were provided for my men for use in a cold, snowbound country, it is a real English touch that they should have been black in colour, making my men a perfect target both night and day. Their fur caps were a dark brown of the well-known Nansen type, the half-moon peak making the head of the wearer a good mark at midnight up to 300 yards. The cap is pointed, and has much the appearance at night of a small mitre. What with huge fur boots, black pointed caps, and long black coats, there was nothing to indicate the British Tommy in the line of black monks that moved silently forward over the frozen snow. The temperature was such that as the slight wind brought the water to one's eyes the drops froze to hard white spots of ice at the corners. Breath from the nostrils froze before it could leave the nose, and from each nostril hung icicles, in some cases 2 inches long, which again froze to the moustache. The eyebrows and eyelashes and the protruding fur edge which enclosed the faces of the men carried a wonderful display of hoar frost, and gave the appearance of white lace frills, such as are seen on "granny's" caps.
As we entered the Russian Headquarters, which were crowded with more or less excited officers and men, my guard lined up on each side of the vestibule, and without a word proceeded to unsling rifles and fix bayonets. The Russians, who were even now debating on which side they were going to slide down, looked at my soldier monks, and at once themselves fell into line. There was no longer any hesitation. "Anglisky soldats" were in possession of Russian Headquarters, and the reputation of English soldiers in emergencies like this is known all over the world. I interviewed the Chief-of-Staff, General Lebediff, as to his orders for suppressing the revolters and went downstairs to find the vestibule empty except for my "monks." No one who was not there could believe the absolute transformation that the mere presence of a few English soldiers had on this critical situation. In revolutions every rule and safeguard of society is uprooted; the people feel as in an earthquake, nothing is secure, everyone doubts his neighbour. If those who are prepared to support authority can only discover at the right moment one little group round whom they can rally, and who they know will think nothing of death in performance of duty, the danger is over at once. Hesitancy disappears, and the normal is instantly produced. We filed out to find the infantry in their ranks, and the horsemen mounted in line, under their officers, awaiting orders.
I proceeded through the town to the residence of the Supreme Governor. On our way we passed parties of soldiers and Cossacks hurrying to their posts, who eyed us suspiciously, but on seeing me at the head in the uniform of a British officer, ejaculated loudly to their command the magic word "Anglisky," until like a talisman the word passed from sentry to sentry and street to street, and "Anglisky" became the password which held the whole town for law and order. We passed towards the admiral's house without challenge until the Cossack and Serbian guard at the actual entrance called us to halt pending the governor's orders. The order soon came for us to enter. The admiral was ill, very ill with inflammation of the lungs, but as brave as ever. My "monks" lined up in the vestibule in the same manner as at Headquarters, and even the personal Serbian guard had to make way for these queer-looking visitors. I got the information required. The revolt was very serious, but I was able to inform the admiral that effective measures had now been taken to provide for all eventualities. I begged leave to depart, which was granted, but not before my men had been given food and a taste of Russian vodka, which appears to be the only effective antidote to the cold of a real Siberian winter. I returned, to find that the fact that the English soldiers were out was known in every house in Omsk, and numerous requests from the highest to the lowest for protection had been received on the telephone. I give no names, but the fact shows what a remarkable influence the presence of a few British soldiers had in steadying the situation.
My orders were to take no part in the internal affairs of Russia, but it is the duty of every commanding officer to take all possible means to protect his command. If I had remained in my quarters and made no sign until these Royalist and Bolshevik enemies had obtained possession of the town, I should have presented a dainty morsel which they could have masticated at leisure. I had to show my hand early enough to make sure it did not go against me. It turned out that I marched from my barracks just when news had been brought of the mutiny, under Royalist and Bolshevik leadership, of two companies of the 8th Regiment of the new Russian army. A body of Bolsheviks at Koulomsino, on the other side of the river, had taken up arms and were bent on the destruction of the bridge over the Irtish, which formed the means of communication with the armoured trains of H.M.S. Suffolk, and our naval detachments at Ufa. The Czechs (our Allies), who had the same orders as myself, on learning that the Tsarists were also in the conspiracy, frustrated this scheme by instantly moving forward a company for the protection of the bridge, which arrived just in the nick of time. Had we acted strictly to orders, Heaven only knows what the result would have been. British and Czech both had to act on our own judgment, and while, technically, we disobeyed orders, we fulfilled the policy of each country and protected our commands.
It cost nearly a thousand lives to restore order, but the lawless elements, top and bottom, were taught a lesson they are not likely to forget. This happened in the middle of the Perm offensive. It did nothing to assist the Bolshevik cause, but it did much to embitter the struggle.