Siberia To-Day

by Frederick Ferdinand Moore

Where the name of the town was transformed into English by our Russian map-makers, and then the station-sign in Russian betrayed no special affinity for the Anglicized version, I found many towns which were apparently astray. Like the navigator who having made a landfall was told that the port he was approaching was Karaka, said: “Impossible! Karaka is two hundred miles to the south of here on my chart!” when my interpreter told me that we were arriving in Poperoffka, I looked at my map and said: “Impossible! Unless the Bolshevists have brought Poperoffka here and tied it till they want it.”

There was a company of the Twenty-seventh at Ushumun, our farthest north. I had a limited time in which to reach this company, and with one train a day running, on uncertain schedule, I must needs leave Khabarovsk to complete my itinerary in time.

But there was talk at Khabarovsk that this company would draw down the line, though the time of its departure was uncertain, and its destination unknown. At headquarters of the Twenty-seventh I could get no definite information, a fact which puzzled me, until I learned that the movement was to be directed by the Japanese commander, General Otani, and that Colonel Styer, in command of the regiment, was waiting for orders as to the movement.

I decided to proceed in accordance with my orders, and from detachments of our troops seek news of the force supposed to be at Ushumun, and either catch it, or go to where it was.

So with my interpreter, I embarked on a passenger train, late at night. We got a “coupé” or compartment, fitted with berths for four persons. It was a so-called “sanitary car” of the second class, and clean and comfortable. The car appeared to be empty except for us, till morning, when we found a Japanese captain and his orderly in the next compartment.

At Nikolsk, on the way to Khabarovsk, and at Vladivostok, there were American officers in the stations, members of the so-called Russian Railway Service, known at home as the Stevens Commission. All were expert railroad men, and telegraph operators, and their presence in stations made travel simple enough. But after leaving Khabarovsk, I found the stations in charge of the regular Russian staffs, and a Japanese staff, the latter with their own telegraphic service. I had been under the impression that every station had officers of our corps, and as I found them missing over the Amur branch, I was puzzled, in addition to being hampered for news and a means of keeping in touch with my own headquarters. At that time this corps was serving only on the Chinese Eastern line, but I did not know it.

An instance of my helplessness may be shown by the fact that the conductor of the train told my interpreter that our car was going through to Ushumun, and that we did not need to make any change at Botchkereva, the junction point for the branch running south to Blagoveschensk. We arrived at Botchkereva about daylight, and I hustled out to the station, leaving my bedding and baggage in the car, as we had been informed that we would have a stop of an hour to wait for a train coming from the south.

I had so far received no information concerning the expected movement of the force at Ushumun. I now resolved to telegraph in Russian to Major Miller, the commander, to learn of his plans. We translated into Russian this message: “Please advise if you will be at Ushumun to-morrow, as I am on my way to see you.”

My interpreter and the Russian telegraph operator now engaged in a long debate, and as I was about to inquire into the reasons for it, the interpreter turned to me in consternation and told me that we must get our baggage out of the car as promptly as possible.

We fled down the tracks, and while the car was already moving out, dumped through the window without waiting to roll it, my bedding, grips, and supplies of sugar and tea and other groceries, along with the interpreter’s blankets and kit.