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.