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

by Anton Ivanovich Denikin

Yet the cleansing of the commanding personnel went too slowly. Our softness (“Poor devil! we must give him a job”), wire-pulling, intrigues, and too slavish an observance of the rules of seniority resulted in the ranks of senior commanding officers being crowded with worthless men. The High Commission for granting testimonials, which sat twice a year in Petrograd, hardly knew any of those to whom these testimonials were given. Therein lies the reason for the mistakes made at the outbreak of war in many appointments to High Commands. Four Commanders-in-Chief (one of them suffered from mental paralysis—it is true that his appointment was only temporary), several Army Commanders, many Army Corps and Divisional Commanders had to be dismissed. In the very first days of the concentration of the Eighth Army, in July, 1914, General Brussilov dismissed three Divisional and one Army Corps Commanders. Yet nonentities retained their commands, and they ruined the troops and the operations. Under the same General Brussilov, General D., relieved several times of his command, went from a cavalry division to three infantry divisions in turn, and found final repose in German captivity. Most unfortunately, the whole army was aware of the incompetence of these Commanding Officers, and wondered at their appointments. Owing to these deficiencies, the strategy of the entire campaign lacked inspiration and boldness. Such, for example, were the operations of the North-Western front in East Prussia, prompted solely by the desire of G.H.Q. to save the French Army from a desperate position. Such, in particular, was Rennenkampf’s shameful manœuvre, as well as the stubborn forcing of the Carpathians, which dismembered the troops of the South-Western front in 1915, and finally our advance in the spring of 1916.

The last episode was so typical of the methods of our High Command and its consequences were so grave that it is worth our while to recall it.

When the armies of the South-Western front took the offensive in May, the attack was eminently successful and several Austrian divisions were heavily defeated. When my division, after the capture of Lutsk, was moving by forced marches to Vladimir Volynsk, I considered—and we all considered—that our manœuvre represented the entire scheme of the advance, that our front was dealing the main blow. We learnt afterwards that the task of dealing the main blow had been entrusted to the Western front, and that Brussilov’s armies were only making a demonstration. There, towards Vilna, large forces had been gathered, equipped with artillery and technical means such as we had never had before. For several months the troops had been preparing places d’armes for the advance. At last all was ready, and the success of the Southern armies that diverted the enemy’s attention and his reserves also promised success to the Western front.

Almost on the eve of the contemplated offensive the historical conversation took place on the telephone between General Evert, C.-in-C. of the Western front, and General Alexeiev, Chief of Staff of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief. The gist of the conversation was the following:

A. Circumstances require an immediate decision. Are you ready for the advance and are you certain to be successful?

E. I have no certainty of success. The enemy’s positions are very strong. Our troops will have to attack the positions against which their previous attacks have failed.

A. If that is the case, you must give immediate orders for the transfer of troops to the South-Western front. I will report to the Emperor.

So the operation, so long awaited and so methodically prepared, collapsed. The Western Army Corps, sent to reinforce us, came too late. Our advance was checked. The senseless slaughter on the swampy banks of the Stokhod then began. Incidentally, the Guards lost the flower of their men in those battles. Meanwhile, the German Eastern front was going through a period of intense anxiety. “It was a critical time,” says Ludendorff in his Mes Souvenirs de Guerre. “We had spent ourselves, and we knew full well that no one would come to our assistance if the Russians chose to attack us.”

An episode may be mentioned in this connection, which occurred to General Brussilov. The story is not widely known, and may serve as an interesting sidelight on the character of the General—one of the leaders of the campaign. After the brilliant operations of the Eighth Army, which ended in the crossing of the Carpathians and the invasion of Hungary, the C.-in-C., General Brussilov, suffered a curious psychological breakdown. Under the impression that a partial reverse had been sustained by one of the Army Corps, he issued an order for a general retreat, and the Army began rapidly to roll back. He was haunted by imaginary dangers of the enemy breaking through, surrounding our troops, of attacks of enemy cavalry which were supposed to threaten the G.H.Q. Twice General Brussilov moved his H.Q. with a swiftness akin to a panicky flight. The C.-in-C. was thus detached from his armies and out of touch with them.

We were retreating day after day in long, weary marches, and utterly bewildered. The Austrians did not outnumber us, and their moral was no higher than ours. They did not press us. Every day, my riflemen and Kornilov’s troops in our vicinity delivered short counter-attacks, took many prisoners, and captured machine-guns.