Siberia To-Day

by Frederick Ferdinand Moore

Now Asia is a land in which the bearing of burdens marks one of the lowest caste. The Siberian is Asiatic in his viewpoint, being so closely in touch with China and Manchuria. And, as in China, to be seen carrying heavy burdens when there is no necessity for it, means that a man’s standing is ruined; no matter how smartly he may dress, or how decently he may comport himself, or what he may do to show his superiority after he has been seen at what is considered debasing toil, the Asiatic never forgets that this foreigner has been a bearer of burdens. He carries forever that impression in the back of his head, on occasion dares to be insolent, and judges by that standard all people of that race.

And to go into Siberia, with an army, claiming to be a democracy in which all men are free and equal, yet with men who are “conscripts” in the sense understood by Asia, and then display those “conscripts” doing the work of pack-animals, is most confusing to the Siberian, the Cossack, the Chinese, and Japanese. They cannot understand our assertion that all are equal, or that many men of the United States have willingly responded to a “draft,” and are willingly submitting themselves to the orders of their officers in order to maintain freedom and equality. We say one thing, and demonstrate another. I once tried to explain this phenomenon of all serving the common cause, some in the ranks and some as officers, to a keen Chinese servant who had been in Hong Kong and knew English well. When I had finished, he looked at me, and reaching for the skillet to fry some eggs, remarked, sagely: “You talk lie.”

If the regimental band had been at the station that morning in Khabarovsk, and the heavy baggage left to be hauled by wagons, and the men had marched to the barracks under arms with swinging strides and heads up, it would have been worth several million dollars to the United States in Asia—and worth much to the men themselves. It would have raised our troops in the estimation of Japanese and Russians. Instead, our column toiled along, resting every few hundred yards, and resuming the march with a series of painful grunts and muttered curses.

As we climbed the last hill, a flock of geese swung in ahead of us, and marching in splendid style, led us to the entrance to the post. There the column remained in the road for an hour, while the regimental band came and played in honor of a party of Japanese statesmen who happened at that time to be calling on the commandant, Colonel Styer, and making an inspection of the city. This, of course, was a necessary and proper honor to pay the guests, and accounted in part for the fact that we had to arrive without music; but as the visitors were not long in the post, our departure from the station might have been deferred till the music was available. After eight days in crowded box-cars, that band was most inspiring when we did hear it, and the weary doughboys were soon chaffing merrily, glad to have found their new home.

In discussing these matters, I wish it understood that I am not criticizing any individual, but the people of the United States so eager to make a good showing abroad and to convince foreign peoples of our good motives and our army so careful not to offend, seem to need something in the way of a code to follow so as to learn to put the best foot forward when away from home.

The British, having had so much more experience with Asiatics, have learned the value of good impressions, and by observing what we may consider trifles, have held and administered the affairs of many lands in the East more by these trifles than by actual force of arms.

I know that our attitude has been in the Philippines, Cuba and elsewhere, “In time these people will learn that we mean all right.” In time they do. But we send an army into foreign countries in much the same manner as a man might attend a first formal dinner in boots, a fishing coat, and a woolen shirt, and on entering the dining-room, trip over a rug when preparing to bow to the hostess. In time, he might establish the fact that he was a man of some breeding. Most people, both for their own comfort, and the comfort of hosts, would prefer to display their breeding first, for some of the guests might leave before the uncouth one had a chance to prove that he was not a boor.

Once the details of turning over the reinforcements were accomplished, with the major who had commanded the train, I took a drosky, and sought the best bath-house in the city. How that vehicle ever held together was a mystery to both of us. The roads were both rutty and full of yielding mud, and as we galloped toward town, first one of us and then the other was in danger of being hurled out to the black pigs along the streets.

The cost of a “bolshoi” or grand bath, was two rubles each, and being provided with soap and towels, we were escorted to a room containing an old sofa and a dressing table weak in the legs. The attendant brought us a small tub of water, for what purpose I have not the slightest idea, as the room adjoining contained a bath-tub of Russian dimensions, a shower big enough for an elephant, and all the pipes full of blazing hot water. The Siberian does not bathe himself—he parboils himself.

The temperature of both rooms was exceedingly hot and humid, so that in a few minutes all our clothing was moist and clammy; and to make matters worse, the ambitious attendant came in and hurled buckets of water over the big marble slab, which was heated by pipes, filling both rooms with a stifling steam. I opened the windows promptly, to his great horror, and drove him away as gently as possible with the one Russian word I had to fit the occasion—“Scurrai,” and he scurried.