Brussilov’s appointment signified definite elimination of the Stavka, as a decisive factor, and a change in its direction. Brussilov’s unrestrained and incomprehensible opportunism, and his endeavour to gain the reputation of a revolutionary, deprived the Commanding Staffs of the Army of the moral support which the former Stavka still gave them. The new Supreme Commander-in-Chief was given a very frigid and dry reception at Moghilev. Instead of the customary enthusiastic ovation to which the “Revolutionary General” had been accustomed, whom the mob had carried shoulder high at Kamenetz-Podolsk, he found a lonely railway station and a strictly conventional parade. Faces were sulky and speeches were stereotyped. Brussilov’s first steps, insignificant but characteristic episodes, had a further disheartening effect. As he was reviewing the Guard of Honour of men with the Cross of St. George, he did not greet their gallant wounded Commander, Colonel Timanovsky, or the officers, but shook hands with the men—the messenger and the orderly. They were so much perturbed by the unexpected inconvenience of such greetings on parade that they dropped their rifles. Brussilov handed to me his Order of the Day intended as a greeting to the Armies, which he had written in his own hand, and asked me to send it to Kerensky for approval. In his speech to the members of the Stavka, who had foregathered to bid farewell to General Alexeiev, Brussilov tried to make excuses. For excuses they were—his confused explanations of the sin of “deepening the Revolution” with Kerensky and “democratising” the Army with the Committees. The closing sentence of his Order, addressed to the retiring Chief, sounded, therefore, out of tune: “Your name will always remain unstained and pure as that of a man who has worked incessantly and has given himself entirely to the service of the Army. In the dark days of the past and in the present turmoil you have had the courage, resolutely and loyally, to oppose violence, to combat mendacity, flattery, subservience, to resist anarchy in the country and disruption in the ranks of its defenders.”
My activities were disapproved by the Provisional Government as much as those of General Alexeiev, and I could not work with Brussilov owing to fundamental differences of opinion. I presume that during Kerensky’s visit to the South-Western Front, Brussilov agreed with his suggestion of appointing General Lukomsky Chief-of-Staff. I was therefore surprised at the conversation which took place on the first day of Brussilov’s arrival. He said to me: “Well, General, I thought I was going to meet a comrade-in-arms and that we were going to work together at the Stavka, but you look very surly.”
“That is not quite true. I cannot stay at the Stavka any longer. I also know that General Lukomsky is to supersede me.”
“What? How have they dared to appoint him without my knowledge?”
We never touched upon that subject again. I continued to work with Brussilov for about ten days pending my successor’s arrival, and I must confess that work was unpleasant from the moral point of view. From the very first days of the War Brussilov and I had served together. For the first month I was Quartermaster-General on the Staff of his Eighth Army, then for two years in command of the 4th Rifle Division in that same glorious Army, and Commander of the 8th Army Corps on his front. The “Iron Division” went from victory to victory, and Brussilov particularly favoured it and constantly acknowledged its achievements. His attitude towards the Commander of the Division was correspondingly cordial. I shared with Brussilov many hardships as well as many unforgettable happy days of military triumphs. And I found it difficult to speak to him now, for he was a different man and was so recklessly, from the personal point of view—which, after all, did not matter—as well as from the point of view of the interests of the Army, throwing his reputation to the four winds. When I reported to him, every question which might be described as “un-Democratic,” but was, in reality, an endeavour to maintain the reasonable standard of efficiency, was invariably negatived. Argument was useless. Brussilov sometimes interrupted me and said with strong feeling: “Do you think that I am not disgusted at having constantly to wave the Red rag? What can I do? Russia is sick, the Army is sick. It must be cured, and I know of no other remedy.”
The question of my appointment interested him more than it interested me. I refused to express any definite desire and said that I would accept any appointment. Brussilov was negotiating with Kerensky. He once said to me, “They are afraid that if I give you an appointment at the Front, you will begin to oust the Committees.” I smiled. “No, I will not appeal to the Committees for help, but will also leave them alone.” I attributed no importance to this conversation, which was conducted almost in jest; but on the same day a telegram was sent to Kerensky, of which the following was the approximate wording: “I have talked it over with Deniken. The obstacles have been removed. I request that he be appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Western Front.”
Kerensky addressing soldiers’ meeting.