“But we are counter-revolutionists,” expostulated an officer high in the councils of Semenoff. “We have been fighting the Bolshevists from the first, and always will fight them. This information that your president is willing to hold a conference with a lot of robbers and murderers, spread broadcast over the country, gives the Bolshevists a standing they have never had before. And that is not the worst of it—we have in our armies men who have been Bolshevists, and who have been more or less argued out of it. These men are now beginning to suspect that our representations to them against Bolshevism are false, and we may have mutiny in our forces. It has been hard enough to fight Bolshevist propaganda, in and out of our armies, but this thing has made us afraid that we cannot hold the former active Bolshevists and Bolshevist sympathizers whom we have won to our side. Even if nothing is done toward a conference, this invitation in itself will do our cause great harm, and the Bolshevist leaders much good. We feel that the United States has turned against us, or will in time recognize the Bolshevist government.”
All I could do was to state that President Wilson was the head of my government, and commander in chief of our army, and that no matter what course he pursued, no matter what orders he or his subordinate officers issued, I should obey. And that if I were in a position to know his intentions and all the facts in the matter, my personal opinion could have no effect upon my obedience to orders. And that I could not enter into a discussion of decisions made in Paris or elsewhere regarding the policy of the United States. Also, that I had faith that the United States would act consistently with its history and aspirations, and for the good of Russia. I asserted that the invitation to Prinkipo might be a desire to get the Bolshevist leaders to define their position regarding Russia, and to commit themselves to a line of action—in other words to state their ideas and ideals. And if their desires did not meet approval, then we would take a stand against Bolshevism and the Bolshevists. But my arguments did not reassure him much—he felt that all the damage had been done.
Now I found a new spirit among those persons who were known to me as Bolshevist sympathizers. I had had many frank talks with some of these people, and had listened to their arguments in favor of Bolshevism. These people now became almost insolent. They told me in effect that I ought to go home, as my president had taken preliminary steps to recognize the Bolshevist government, seeing that it would be useless to combat the Bolshevist rule. They were right, and I was wrong by being there in their country, and what was I doing, they asked, walking around with a pistol in my belt. My answer to this was, if my president felt they were right, and that the presence of American troops in Siberia was wrong, my president as commander in chief would withdraw the American forces from Siberia. All my Bolshevist friends had to do, and all I had to do, I told them, was wait for that order.
For an officer who was practically on diplomatic duty, it was rather a peculiar position—far inland in Siberia, with all parties suspicious of him and his government. The Bolshevists regarded me with more open hostility, the anti-Bolshevists not quite sure I was a friend, the principal Allied power in Chita somewhat hurt and suspicious that it might be discredited in Siberia, and such Russians as concealed whatever partisanship they secretly held, discouraged and believing that their country was to be betrayed to the Bolshevists by the nation which they looked to for the most aid and moral support. And American officers and civilians were scattered through the country, practically alone, and far from supporting or protecting troops.
For a couple of weeks the Hotel Select buzzed with noisy discussions in which the principal word was “Americanskys.” More than ever, I felt that any nation sending its forces into a country, should know what it intends to do before such troops are sent. And if it gets an expedition into a foreign country and finds that conditions have changed which leaves the purposes for which the expedition may be used, in doubt, the expedition should be put into transports and sent to its own territory. No man should expect to be a leader without being willing to make decisions, and assume the responsibility for his decisions. The man who is not brave enough to make a decision, should be retired to private life. The quality of a man’s decisions is the only test of his leadership, regardless of what his uttered ideals may be. Good intentions with bad decisions will ruin a nation much more quickly than autocratic ideas wisely expressed in action.
The United States must expect leadership in all its executive branches because the will of the people in our vast country regarding foreign affairs solidifies too slowly for the man in power during a crisis to follow public opinion in matters which touch upon the safety of the nation. National good must stand above the good of parties.
I was more discouraged by the views of the Prinkipo invitation than were the Siberians or the Japanese. They suspected my attitude, for I had always expressed myself as opposed to Bolshevism. But the Cossacks had difficulty in understanding my reticence regarding my private opinions and my avowal that I would stand with my political chiefs. Probably they thought I should ferment an American revolution!
The Japanese understood better, I think, loyalty to government. Probably, knowing I was anti-Bolshevist, they expected me to commit hara-kiri.
XXII
FAREWELL TO CHITA
The routine of every day ran along about the same as ever for about a week after the Prinkipo invitation to the Bolshevists had unsettled our little world in Chita. But I noted a decided coolness from all parties, or so it seemed to me. My old stock phrases about the “friendship of the United States for a great and reunited Russia” did not ring so true when I got up at banquets to say something pleasant.