Siberia To-Day

by Frederick Ferdinand Moore

Here we were introduced to many Russian officers in the service of Kalmikoff, nearly all of them wearing orders of the Czar’s régime, and some of them wearing orders gained on the Manchurian plains not so long ago, in action against the army of Kuroki.

General Oi, the local Japanese commander, and his staff arrived, and he and his officers were all introduced to us. Among those there that day was a lone British officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Roberts. I am not sure that this dignified and canny British observer did not see more, and understand more, of what was going on, than all the rest of us Anglo-Saxons. This statement is not made in derogation of the abilities of American officers as observers, nor as a compliment intimating a superior craft in international affairs on the part of the British officer, but occurs to me as due to the lack of anything approaching a “policy” regarding Siberian affairs on the part of our administration.

Not knowing what we were expected to do beyond avoiding as far as possible any action which might be interpreted as “interference,” our interests did not extend beyond the dramatic effect of what we were there to witness. To us, it was merely a show, possibly with something of an historical interest, as it had been said that by presenting the colors to this regiment of Cossacks, Kalmikoff was acting as a sort of godfather at the “birth of the new Siberian army.”

But the British, with India so close to Russia, and an age-old suspicion of “the man who walks like a bear” in the backs of their heads, watch Russian affairs with deadly earnestness, for to lose India might be the first break in the chain of the British Empire. So to Colonel Roberts, a gaunt and elderly officer typical of the men who have built the best traditions of Britain in far-flung empires, this was more than a mere entertainment of a day. At least I got that impression, as I observed him—politely punctilious, yet with roving eyes which saw, and weighed, every trifling incident.

I felt that our attitude was the vaudevillian one of “I don’t care.” No doubt, if one of us had written a detailed report of what happened that day, and had dared to draw conclusions, and had sent this report to, say, our own General Staff, it might have been filed. But if we are going to deal with international problems, we must begin to regard foreign affairs seriously, and leave to the cartoonist his humorous conceptions of foreign peoples. We are somewhat inclined to regard humorously the deadly earnestness of the British in dealing with queer peoples, but the British know that queer peoples are sometimes the most dangerous. We persist in using them for comic opera material, and then wonder why we cannot analyze promptly, and take proper and decisive action to meet a crisis.

As we stood there in the morning sun, with the wide river below, there was a sudden stir, and the lances of the Cossacks became more rigid as the troops came to attention.

From round the corner, we heard the clatter of galloping hoofs, and suddenly, Kalmikoff swooped into view, mounted on a superb black horse.

Rising in his stirrups, with saber upraised, he cried in Russian, as he passed at full gallop, a hail which was interpreted to me as: “Ussuri Cossacks! Your commander comes!”

And from the line of horsemen, came the reply, yelled in unison, “We are glad to greet you,” and the lances, with their pennons, shot upward.

Kalmikoff whirled back, dismounted, and strode into the church. A band blared the new Russian anthem. From the church now came a column of acolytes in white robes, some bearing crucifixes before them, some swinging censors, all led by mitered priests, who were intoning chants.