The news from the front was for a time encouraging; there was talk of a short war. People seemed to work harder than ever. At this time Father was often summoned to the telephone which he did not want to have on his desk in his study. Even while Father was on his daily short walks, frequently an officer on a velocipede was dispatched to fetch him on an urgent matter.
IX
FAMILY HEARTACHES
The news from the front was bad. There were serious reverses. Father was staggered. The people and the army were dissatisfied with Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaevich, who was in command of the Russian armies at the front. A change had become imperative.
My father now decided to take over the Supreme Command of the Russian Armies in the Field. He realized that a tragic hour was at hand. The Army already had begun to show disunity, under the Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaevich who continually complained about Father, not only to Grandmother and our Aunts but also to the officers of the high command. Father thought that this older giant who was at least 6′ 4′′, would be better off in the warmer climate of the Persian front as he suffered from rheumatism. But the Grand Duke claimed that Father was jealous of his position.
Father’s decision meant going to General Headquarters and entrusting the government to others in his absence, hoping for the wholehearted support of the Duma. It also meant separation from the family. Mother believed completely that this was the correct decision, but never from that moment on was she free from constant worry.
Before his departure Mother drove with Father to the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul, then to Our Lady of Kazan to pray for guidance in his undertaking and to dedicate all, even life itself, to the task. Then they crossed the Troitsky bridge over the Neva, which was built as a memorial to the silver wedding anniversary of Alexander III and Marie Feodorovna.
At this time Mother believed she saw the sign of a cross in the sky. This saddened her, for she became worried that Father by taking command would encounter personal danger. She dreaded lest he become the victim of some fanatic assassin, as was his grandfather, Alexander II.
We realized this risk when we went to the Alexander Station to see Father entrain for Mogilev. The waiting room was filled with guards and secret police. No one was admitted except by special permit. Even ministers and relatives could not enter except by invitation. When the big, blue, Imperial train, with its double eagle crest, pulled out of the station, we saw Father standing at the wide window of his sitting room.
It was a comfort to know that each hundred feet of track was guarded by a soldier against accidents or bombs. No one knew in which car Father rode. All the church bells rang until the train was no longer in sight. The Nicholas railway on which they travelled provided a direct line to General Headquarters. Several days before the trip, roads were searched and guards were posted. As a further precaution, railroad tracks crossing the Nicholas line were removed until Father’s train passed. Once he said, “I have known from my early years that I will fall a victim for my country.” Nevertheless, Father disliked all the fuss.
With Father speeding away from us, we knew he would carry on efficiently and with determination. Of course he would miss his family, but we were going to send him letters daily and an occasional package containing needed articles. We often sent him fruit and books and occasionally flowers received from Livadia. I can still hear Mother say, as she examined the flowers while placing them in the box, “When one sees these heavenly blossoms, how can one be reconciled to this terrible war?” Whatever went into each package was lovingly and tenderly packed; and Father knew it. Mother often packed everything with her own hands and made a list of what she included. A jaeger (messenger), an aide-de-camp, or a relative waited until it was ready. Mother sometimes handed the package to him personally and he departed to the undisclosed destination where Father was. There was always a letter in the package, describing our activities, sometimes only a note from Mother, containing a language just the two of them could understand, words that made her love sing in Father’s heart.