The Russian Turmoil; Memoirs: Military, Social, and Political

by Anton Ivanovich Denikin

On March 27th the Provisional Government issued a proclamation “To the Citizens” on the subject of war aims. The Stavka could not detect any definite instructions for governing the Russian Army in the midst of a series of phrases in which the true meaning of the appeal was obscured in deference to the Revolutionary Democracy. “The Defence at all costs of our national patrimony and the liberation of the country from the enemy who has invaded it is the first and vital aim of our soldiers, who are defending the freedom of the people.... Free Russia does not aim at domination over other peoples, at depriving them of their national patrimony, or at the forcible seizure of foreign territories. She aims at a lasting peace, on the basis of the self-determination of peoples. The Russian people do not wish to increase their external power at the expense of other peoples ... but ... will not allow their Mother Country to come out of the great struggle downtrodden and weakened. These principles will constitute the basis of the Foreign Policy of the Provisional Government ... while all the obligations to our Allies will be respected.”

In the Note of April 18th, addressed to the Allied Powers by the Foreign Minister, Miliukov, we find yet another definition: “The universal desire of the people to carry the World War to a victorious conclusion ... has grown owing to the consciousness of the common responsibility of everyone. This desire has become more active, because it is concentrated on the aim which is immediate and clear to everyone—that of repelling the enemy who has invaded the territory of our Mother Country.” These, of course, were mere phrases, which described the War aims in cautious, timorous and nebulous words, allowing of any interpretation, and deprived, moreover, any foundation in fact. The will for victory in the people and in the Army had not only not grown, but was steadily decreasing, as a result of weariness and waning patriotism, as well as of the intense work of the abnormal coalition between the representatives of the extreme elements of the Russian Revolutionary Democracy and the German General Staff. That coalition was formed by ties which were unseen and yet quite perceptible. I will deal with that question later, and will only say here that the destructive work, in accordance with the Zimmerwald programme, for ending the War began long before the Revolution and was conducted from within as well as from without. The Provisional Government was trying to pacify the militant element of the Revolutionary Democracy by expounding meaningless and obscure formulas with regard to the War aims, but it did not interfere with the Stavka in regard to the choice of strategical means. We were, therefore, to decide the question of the advance independently from the prevailing currents of political opinion. The only clear and definite object upon which the Commanding Staffs could not fail to agree was to defeat the enemy in close union with the Allies. Otherwise our country was doomed to destruction.

Such a decision implied an advance on a large scale because victory was impossible without it, and a devastating war might otherwise become protracted. The responsible organs of the Democracy, the majority of whom had Defeatist tendencies, tried correspondingly to influence the masses. Even the moderate Socialist circles were not altogether free from these tendencies. The masses of the soldiery utterly failed to understand the ideas behind of the Zimmerwald programme; but the programme itself offered a certain justification for the elementary feelings of self-preservation. In other words, it was a question with them of saving their skin. The idea of an advance could not, therefore, be particularly popular with the Army, as demoralisation was growing. There was no certainty not only that the advance would be successful, but even that the troops would obey the order to go forward. The colossal Russian Front was still steady ... by the force of inertia. The enemy feared it, as, like ourselves, he was unable to gauge its potential strength. What if the advance were to disclose our impotence?

Such were the motives adduced against an advance. But there were too many weighty reasons in favour of it, and these reasons were imperative. The Central Powers had exhausted their strength, moral and material, and their man power. If our advance in the autumn of 1916, which had no decisive strategical results, had placed the enemy forces in a critical position, what might not happen now, when we had become stronger and, technically better equipped, when we had the advantage in numbers, and the Allies were planning a decisive blow in the spring of 1917? The Germans were awaiting the blow with feverish anxiety, and in order to avert it they had retreated thirty miles on a front of 100 miles between Arras and Soissons to the so-called Hindenburg line, after causing incredibly ruthless and inexcusable devastation to the relinquished territory. This retreat was significant, as it was an indication of the enemy’s weakness, and gave rise to great hopes. We had to advance. Our intelligence service was completely destroyed by the suspicions of the Revolutionary Democracy, which had foolishly believed that this service was identical with the old secret police organisation, and had therefore abolished it. Many of the delegates of the Soviet were in touch with the German agents. The fronts were in close contact, and espionage was rendered very easy. In these circumstances our decision not to advance would have been undoubtedly communicated to the enemy, who would have immediately commenced the transference of his troops to the Western Front. This would have been tantamount to treason to our Allies, and would have inevitably led to a separate peace—with all its consequences—if not officially, at least practically. The attitude of the revolutionary elements in Petrograd in this matter was, however, so unstable that the Stavka had at first suspected—without any real foundation—the Provisional Government itself.

This caused the following incident: At the end of April, in the temporary absence of the Supreme C.-in-C., the Chief of the Diplomatic Chancery reported to me that the Allied Military Attaches were greatly perturbed because a telegram had just been received from the Italian Ambassador at Petrograd, in which he categorically stated that the Provisional Government had decided to conclude a separate peace with the Central Powers. When the receipt of a telegram had been ascertained, I sent a telegram to the War Minister, because I was then unaware of the fact that the Italian Embassy, owing to the impulsiveness of its personnel, had more than once been the channel through which false rumours had been spread. My telegram was most emphatic, and ended thus: “Posterity will stigmatise with deep contempt the weak-kneed, impotent, irresolute generation which was good enough to destroy the rotten régime, but not good enough to preserve the honour, the dignity, and the very existence of Russia.” The misunderstanding was painful indeed; the news was false, the Government was not thinking of a separate peace. Later, at the fateful sitting of the Conference at the Stavka of Commanders-in-Chief and members of the Government, on July 16th, I had an opportunity of expressing my views once more. I said: “... There is another way—the way of treason. It would give a respite to our distressed country.... But the curse of treachery will not give us happiness. At the end of that way there is slavery—political, economical, and moral.”

I am aware that in certain Russian circles such a straightforward profession of moral principles in politics was afterwards condemned. It was stated that such idealism is misplaced and pernicious, that the interests of Russia must be considered above all “conventional political morality.”... A people, however, lives not for years, but for centuries, and I am certain that, had we then altered the course of our external policy, the sufferings of the Russian people would not have been materially affected, and the gruesome, blood-stained game with marked cards would have continued ... at the expense of the people. The psychology of the Russian military leaders did not allow of such a change, of such a compromise with conscience. Alexeiev and Kornilov, abandoned by all and unsupported, continued for a long time to follow that path, trusting and relying upon the common-sense, if not the noble spirit, of the Allies and preferring to be betrayed rather than betray.

Was that playing the part of a Don Quixote? It may be so. But the other policy would have had to be conducted by other hands less clean. As regards myself, three years later, having lost all my illusions and borne the heavy blows of fortune, having knocked against the solid wall of the overt and blind egoism of the “friendly” powers, and being therefore free from all obligations towards the Allies, almost on the eve of the final betrayal by these powers of the real Russia, I remained the convinced advocate of honest policy. Now the tables are turned. At the end of April, 1920, I had to try and convince British Members of Parliament that a healthy national policy cannot be free from all moral principles, and that an obvious crime was being committed because no other name could be given to the abandonment of the armed forces of the Crimea to the discontinuance of the struggle against Bolshevism, its introduction into the family of civilised nations, and to its indirect recognition; that this would prolong for a short while the days of Bolshevism in Russia, but would open wide the gates of Europe to Bolshevism. I am firmly convinced that the Nemesis of history will not forgive THEM, as it would not have then forgiven us. The beginning of 1917 was a moment of acute peril for the Central Powers and a decisive moment for the Entente. The question of the Russian advance greatly perturbed the Allied High Command. General Barter, the Representative of Great Britain, and General Janin, the French Representative at Russian Headquarters, often visited the Supreme C.-in-C. and myself, and made inquiries on the subject. But the statements of the German Press, with reference to pressure from the Allies and to ultimatums to the Stavka, are incorrect. These would have simply been useless, because Janin and Barter understood the situation, and knew that it was the condition of the Army that hindered the beginning of the advance. They tried to hurry and to increase technical assistance, while their more impulsive compatriots—Thomas, Henderson, and Vandervelde—were making hopeless endeavours to fan the flame of patriotism by their impassioned appeals to the Representatives of the Russian Revolutionary Democracy and to the troops.

The Stavka also took into consideration the strong probability that the Russian Army would have rapidly and finally collapsed had it been left in a passive condition and deprived of all impulses for active hostilities, whereas a successful advance might lift and heal the moral, if not through sheer patriotism, at least through the intoxication of a great victory. Such feelings might have counteracted all international formulas sown by the enemy on the fertile soil of the Defeatist tendencies of the Socialistic Party. Victory would have given external peace, and some chance of peace within. Defeat opened before the country an abyss. The risk was inevitable, and was justified by the aim of saving Russia. The Supreme Commander-in-Chief, the Quartermaster-General, and myself fully agreed as to the necessity of an advance. And this view was shared in principle by the Senior Commanding Officers. Different views were held on various Fronts as to the degree of fighting capacity of the troops and as to their preparedness. I am thoroughly convinced that the decision itself independently of its execution rendered the Allies a great service, because the forces, the means, and the attention of the enemy were kept on the Russian Front, which, although it had lost its former formidable power, still remained a potential danger to the enemy. The same question, curiously enough, was confronting Hindenburg’s Headquarters. Ludendorff writes: “The general position in April and in May precluded the possibility of important operations on the Eastern Front.” Later, however, “... there were great discussions on the subject at G.H.Q. Would not a rapid advance on the Eastern Front with the available troops, reinforced by a few divisions from the West, offer a better chance than mere waiting? It was a most propitious moment, as some people said, for smashing the Russian Army, when its fighting capacity had deteriorated.... I disagreed, in spite of the fact that our position in the West had improved. I would not do anything that might destroy the real chances of peace.” Ludendorff means, of course, separate peace. What such a peace was to be we learnt later, at Brest-Litovsk....

The Armies were given directions for a new offensive. The general idea was to break through the enemy positions on sectors specially prepared on all European fronts, to advance on a broad front in great strength on the South-Western Front, in the direction from Kamenetz-Podolsk to Lvov, and further to the line of the Vistula, while the striking force of our Western Front was to advance from Molodetchno to Vilna and the Niemen, throwing back northwards the German Armies of General Eichorn. The Northern and the Roumanian Fronts were to co-operate by dealing local blows and attracting the forces of the enemy. The time for the advance was not definitely fixed, and a broad margin was allowed. But the days went by, and the troops, who had hitherto obeyed orders and carried out the most difficult tasks without a murmur, the same troops that had hitherto withstood the onset of the Austro-German Armies with naked breasts, without cartridges or shells, now stood with their will-power paralysed and their reason obscured. The offensive was still further delayed.

Meanwhile the Allies, who had been preparing a big operation for the spring, as they had counted upon strong reinforcements being brought up by the enemy in the event of the complete collapse of the Russian Front, began the great battle in France, as had been planned, at the end of March, and without awaiting the final decision on our advance. The Allied Headquarters, however, did not consider simultaneous action as a necessary condition of the contemplated operations, even before disaffection had begun in the Russian Army. Owing to the natural conditions of our Front we were not expected to begin the advance before the month of May. Meanwhile, according to the general plan of campaign for 1917, which had been drawn up in November, 1916, at the Conference at Chantilly, General Joffre intended to begin the advance of the Anglo-French Army at the end of January and the beginning of February. General Nivelle, who superseded him, altered the date to the end of March after the Conference at Calais of February 14th, 1917. The absence of co-ordination between the Western and Eastern European Fronts was bearing bitter fruit. It is difficult to tell whether the Allies would have deferred their spring offensive for two months, and whether the advances of a combined operation with the Russian Front would have been a compensation for the delay, which gave Germany the opportunity of reinforcing and reorganising her armies. One thing is certain—that that lack of co-ordination gave the Germans a great respite. Ludendorff wrote: “I detest useless discussions, but I cannot fail to think of what would have happened had Russia advanced in April and May and had won a few minor victories. We would have been faced, as in the autumn of 1916, with a fierce struggle. Our munitions would have reached a very low ebb. After careful consideration, I fail to see how our High Command could have remained the master of the situation had the Russians obtained in April and May even the same scant successes which crowned their efforts in June. In April and May of 1917, in spite of our victory (?) on the Aisne and in Champagne, it was only the Russian Revolution that saved us.”