At Tsarskoe Selo that evening, after the news of the German advance, we prayed to the Almighty, hoping that disaster could still be averted and peace could be maintained. We realized how much Father was suffering when he appeared late for dinner. His face was pale, his bearing indicated anguish. He said, “Russia has no choice but war, when the armies of Germany and Austria are already on Russian soil.” Mother burst into tears, and so did we all. Supper was not finished that night. We left the table. That same evening, Foreign Minister Sazonov and the British Ambassador, Sir George Buchanan, spent half of the night conferring with Father. The next day Father was at his desk at five in the morning, working until breakfast. Alexei, who was ill, did not know about the war until the next morning.
In the afternoon we all went to St. Petersburg, except Alexei. As we were entering the Winter Palace, people gathered in the square and surrounded us as they cheered. After an old Russian tradition they kissed Father’s shoulders and Mother’s skirt. This display of loyalty brought tears to Mother’s eyes. Father went directly to a meeting at the huge Nicholas Concert Hall with the ministers and generals. Then the Te Deum was sung. When Father appeared on the balcony of the Winter Palace to read the Manifesto declaring war, all of us children and other relatives stood behind him. At once the voices died down and all was quiet as though the whole world had suddenly fallen asleep. The thousands of people who had assembled in the square knelt down, their garments making a rustling sound, and in unison sang “God Save the Tsar.” At this time Father took an oath that he would never make peace so long as one enemy remained on Russian soil. Then he promised his people that he would defend all the Slavs, even if he would have to shed his own blood. It was a painful moment to announce to the people that war was an actuality.
We returned to Alexandria and several days later we all left for Moscow. We were greeted with the same enthusiasm there. The church bells rang continually as we passed from the station to the Kremlin. People were everywhere, on roof tops, balconies and trees. The Russian national anthem was heard repeatedly along the way. Alexei was ill, and had to be carried to the Cathedral of the Assumption to hear the Te Deum. The patriotic demonstrations lasted three days. “Ura” (hurrah) resounded everywhere. From Moscow we went near by to Sergievo to pray at the celebrated Troitsko-Sergievskaya Lavra. Practically every living person in the area lined the streets to the monastery, the richest and most important monastery in Russia. It covered a large territory and was surrounded by a lofty, thick wall with many towers. It contained some dozen of churches and many historical treasures, some dating from ancient days. Many pages of Russian history had been devoted to this monastery, about the heroic defense by the monks in 1608 against the Poles. Here were the tombs of Tsar Boris Godunov and his family. Here Father received an icon to carry with him through the battles. This icon was sent to the field chapel at General Headquarters and remained there to the last.
With war an actuality, all Russia seemed to unite in a determination to win a quick victory. Whenever Father travelled, the people greeted him enthusiastically; sometimes the whole family went with him and heard him deliver his war messages. During these trips the air was full of unity and the family never felt closer to the people. Many letters were received from students who begged to be allowed to go to war. “A beautiful patriotism,” Father said. “But how little they understand what war is.”
During the first days of the war, all factions drew together in a great patriotic surge. We saw some of our own relatives return to Russia to take part in the war. We sisters hardly knew some of these relations. All helped in the war effort; even our frail Grandmother did her bit in hospital work. Later she spent a great deal of time in Kiev, with her younger daughter Olga, our aunt, who worked in her own hospital there as a Sister of Mercy. Being so near the front, she received the most critical cases.
Life in the palace quickened. For days on end Mother could not think of anything but the hospitals. Were they adequate for the most certain strain ahead? She was not ignorant of the heavy task. In her younger days, before her marriage, she had taken up medicine for a while, knowing that the dreaded haemophilia might be in her genes. She wanted to be prepared to take personal care of any children she might have in the event they should inherit it. Later on, through the long illness of Alexei and during the war, her previous knowledge of this affliction helped enormously in her work. Mother also had a medical library on the second floor in Tsarskoe Selo, where in addition to texts, all kinds of anatomical diagrams and other materials could be found. Even before the war she was an excellent organizer of hospitals and charitable institutions, being particularly interested in orphanages. In addition to her medical training, Mother had studied philosophy in one of the German universities. In fact I recall the very drawer in the desk in a room on the balcony where she kept her documents and other papers of this nature. Most of all, I was always sure, Mother was determined to meet with courage any problems she had to face. So now, a nurses’ course was arranged for Mother, Olga and Tatiana, so that they might serve the wounded more effectively.
Alexei no longer played at soldiering. He was now in serious military training. In Father’s study there was always a chair for Alexei, where he sat on certain days listening to various reports brought by the Ministers. He was not allowed to make any comments at these conferences, although, after the Ministers left, he could ask questions about anything that puzzled him.
“If Alexei could take part in things, why not I?” Mother said, “During a war there are first duties. Yours is to continue your education in order to be useful later on.” How disappointing. Yet the war-electrified patriotism compelled me to dig in at my school work and to pursue my formal education. Stirring sounds of bands and marching feet often disturbed my good intentions. I learned the meaning of discipline and self-sacrifice from the men under arms.
My newly awakened conscientiousness would not let me waste a minute. Besides working on my lessons, I joined a group of young women in hemming children’s dresses for various charities. Later under Marie’s supervision we worked in the palace workroom on garments and often we called officers of Father’s own regiment on duty in the palace to turn the wheels of the sewing machines and sort the garments.
We had learned sewing at an early age because Mother had always stressed its importance in any woman’s life. She, herself, was expert at sewing and during the early years of her marriage made some of the layettes for us infants. Many of her embroideries sold at benefits and some handmade blouses in silk or linen, beautifully tucked and embroidered, went as gifts to our relatives in England and in Germany.