We now come to the third foundation—the Mother Country. Deafened as we were, alas! by the thunder and rattle of conventional patriotic phrases, endlessly repeated along the whole length and breadth of Russia, we failed to detect the fundamental, innate defect of the Russian people—its lack of patriotism. It is no longer necessary to force an open door by proving this statement. The Brest-Litovsk Treaty provoked no outburst of popular wrath. Russian society was indifferent to the separation of the Border States, even those that were Russian in spirit and in blood. What is more, Russian society approved of this dismemberment. We know of the agreement between Poland and Petlura, between Poland and the Soviet. We know that Russian territorial and material riches were sold for a song to international, political usurers. Need we adduce further proofs?
There can be no doubt that the collapse of Russian Statehood as manifested in “self-determination” was in several instances caused by the desire to find a temporary safeguard against the Bedlam of the Soviet Republic. Life, however, unfortunately does not stop at the practical application of this peculiar “sanitary cordon,” but strikes at the very idea of Statehood. This occurred even in such stable districts as the Cossack provinces, not, however, among the masses, but among the leaders themselves. Thus at Ekaterinodar in 1920, at the “High Krug” (Assembly) of the three Cossack armies, the mention of Russia was omitted after a heated discussion from the proposed formula of the oath....
Is Crucified Russia unworthy of our love?
What, then, was the effect of the Mother Country idea upon the conscience of the old Army? The upper strata of the Russian intellectuals were well aware of the reasons for the world conflagration, of the conflict of the Powers for political and economic supremacy, for free routes, for markets and colonies—a conflict in which Russia’s part was merely one of self-defence. On the other hand, the average number of the Russian intelligencia, as well as officers, were often satisfied merely with the immediate and more obvious and easily comprehensible causes. Nobody wanted the war, except, perhaps, the impressionable young officers yearning for exploits. It was believed that the powers-that-be would take every precaution in order to avoid a rupture. Gradually, however, the fatal inevitability of war was understood. There was no question on our part of aggressiveness or self-interest. To sympathise sincerely with the weak and the oppressed was in keeping with the traditional attitude of Russia. Also, we did not draw the sword—the sword was drawn against us. That is why, when the war began, the voices were silenced of those who feared that, owing to the low level of her culture and economic development, Russia would be unable to win in the contest with a strong and cultured enemy. War was accepted in a patriotic spirit, which was at times akin to enthusiasm. Like the majority of the intellectuals, the officers did not take much interest in the question of war aims. The war began; defeat would have led to immeasurable disaster to our country in every sphere of its life, to territorial losses, political decadence and economic slavery. Victory was, therefore, a necessity. All other questions were relegated to the background. There was plenty of time for their discussion, for new decisions and for changes. This simplified attitude towards the war, coupled with a profound understanding and with a national self-consciousness, was not understood by the left wing of the Russian politicians, who were driven to Zimmerwald and Kienthal. No wonder, therefore, that when the anonymous and the Russian leaders of the Revolutionary democracy were confronted in February, 1917, before the Army was deliberately destroyed, with the dilemma: “Are we to save the country or the Revolution?” they chose the latter.
Still less did the illiterate masses of the people understand the idea of national self-preservation. The people went to war submissively, but without enthusiasm and without any clear perception of the necessity for a great sacrifice. Their psychology did not rise to the understanding of abstract national principles. “The people-in-arms,” for that was what the Army really was, were elated by victory and downhearted when defeated. They did not fully understand the necessity for crossing the Carpathians, and had, perhaps, a clearer idea of the meaning of the struggle on the Styr and the Pripet. And yet it found solace in the thought: “We are from Tambov; the Germans will not reach us.” It is necessary to repeat this stale saying, because it expresses the deep-rooted psychology of the average Russian. As a result of this predominance of material interests in the outlook of “the people-in-arms,” they grasped more easily the simple arguments based on realities in favour of a stubborn fight and of victory, as well as the impossibility of admitting defeat. These arguments were: A foreign German domination, the ruin of the country and of the home, the weight of the taxes which would inevitably be levied after defeat, the fall in the price of grain, which would have to go through foreign channels, etc. In addition, there was some feeling of confidence that the Government was doing the right thing, the more so as the nearest representatives of that power, the officers, were going forward with the troops and were dying in the same spirit of readiness and submission as the men, either because they had been ordered to do so, or else because they thought it their duty. The rank and file, therefore, bravely faced death. Afterwards when confidence was shaken, the masses of the Army were completely perplexed. The formulas, “without annexations and indemnities,” “the self-determination of peoples,” etc., proved more abstract and less intelligible than the old repudiated and rusty idea of the Mother Country, which still persisted underneath them. In order to keep the men at the front, the well-known arguments of a materialistic nature, such as the threat of German domination, the ruin of the home, the weight of taxes, were expounded from platforms decorated with red flags. They were taught by Socialists, who favoured a war of defence.
Thus the three principles which formed the foundations of the Army were undermined. In describing the anomalies and spiritual shortcomings of the Russian Army, far be it from me to place it below the level of armies of other countries. These shortcomings are inherent in all armies formed from the masses, which are almost akin to a militia, but this did not prevent these armies or our own from gaining victories and continuing the war. It is necessary, however, to draw a complete picture of the spirit of the Army in order to understand its subsequent destiny.
[CHAPTER II.]
The Army.
The Russo-Japanese war had a very great influence upon the development of the Russian army. The bitterness of defeat and the clear consciousness that the policy governing military affairs was disastrously out of date gave a great impulse to the junior military elements and forced the slack and inert elements gradually to alter their ways or else to retire. In spite of the passive resistance of several men at the head of the War Ministry and the General Staff, who were either incompetent or else treated the interests of the army with levity and indifference, work was done at full speed. In ten years the Russian army, without of course attaining the ideal, made tremendous progress. It may be confidently asserted that, had it not been for the hard lessons of the Manchurian campaign, Russia would have been crushed in the first months of the Great War.