Owing to the speed with which Germany and Austria can effect their mobilisation, Russia must of necessity begin a European war on the defensive. Consequently, her mobilisation bases are not situated on the frontier, but at a considerable distance in the interior, at Warsaw, and other towns lying behind the Vistula. These towns are protected by a long chain of fortresses and fortified positions, stretching from Kovno to Radom, and designed to hold an invading force in check until the troops have been mobilised and the advance can begin.
The method by which the mobilisation is effected will be understood by reference to the diagram. At the call to arms recruits and reservists living at the outlying hamlets, a a a, make their way to the central villages and towns, b b. This journey has usually to be performed on foot, and may be anything up to fifty miles. At b b the men are collected in batches and passed on to the concentration centres, c c c. For this journey railways are sometimes available, but in the more remote districts the roads are, more often than not, the only means of communication. The peasant soldiers troop into the concentration centres in their ordinary dress, they leave them ready for the field. All day long a constant stream of peasants is pouring into the barracks, and a constant stream of soldiers, fully equipped for hostilities, is pouring out. Regiments and battalions are formed. Then, when all is complete, they pass on by train to the mobilisation base D.
The success of the system obviously depends on the maintenance of an even flow of men from a and D. A delay or hitch at any point may throw the whole process out of gear. The area covered is so vast, the population so sparse, the army so huge, and the means of communication from point to point leave so much to be desired that difficulties and dangers spring up in every direction. An especially weak point about the system is that in the early stages so much depends upon the men themselves.
Ivan Ivan’ich, the Russian Tommy Atkins, is no better and no worse than the rank and file of any army. He is not averse to temptation, especially when it takes the form of alcohol. Vodka was the cause of much of the muddle of the Manchurian mobilisation. In the present instance, however, General Soukhomlinov very wisely decided to take no risks. He decided on a bold stroke which, in the unsettled state of the country at the beginning of the war, might easily have been the cause of serious rioting. The Imperial ukase ordering the mobilisation was followed by another which practically prohibited the sale of alcohol in all districts likely to be affected by the military preparations. The railway stations, concentration centres, and mobilisation bases were signalled out for specially stringent regulations. There were also severe pains and penalties for those who, in their patriotic fervour, were inclined to be over-generous to the troops on their way to the front.
This drastic measure was fully justified by the results. With nothing to delay them, the men arrived punctually at their posts. They were sober, and displayed all the virtues of sobriety. Their health and temper were noticeably improved. There were none of the quarrels and disturbances usually associated with mobilisation. The conduct of the troops was in every way irreproachable. The worries and work of the officers were lightened a hundredfold.
Russia, in short, provided the world with an object lesson in the value of temperance.
Of course there was some grumbling. Men who had tramped fifty versts or so to serve the “Little Father” thought that they were at least entitled to drink his health and damnation to the Nemetz. But generally the order of things was accepted with the unquestioning stolidness of the Russian peasant. The “Little Father” had said, “No vodka”—therefore, nitchevo, why complain?
The following description of the actual mobilisation is based upon the letters written by Vasili Grigorovich, the cobbler of a little town in the Ukraine, to an English friend. The bond between this rather ill-assorted pair is Vasili’s unsatiable thirst for learning. Self-taught, he reads everything and anything that comes his way, and it was a chance conversation over an out-of-date newspaper during the mending of the traveller’s boot that led to the friendship.
“The news that a general mobilisation was ordered reached the village late in the afternoon. The Governor himself came to tell us that the ‘Little Father’ is at war with the Nemetz, and that we must all start off for Berlin at once. He is a witty man, our Governor. I started getting ready, but Marya scolded me for not being quick enough. Indeed, she scolded me all the time, even when I bade her goodbye. That’s like our women. They always hide their heartaches. And after all they are quite right, for what are their sorrows compared with the orders of the Tzar? She swore at me and said I was not fit to be a soldier, when I kissed her. But her voice was thick and her eyes glistened. And Dimitri, who caught me up later, told me that when he passed he saw her praying before our ikon. It was the first time, too, that he had seen Marya weeping.
“She is a fine woman, though outwardly rough. I am very glad to hear that the Tzar has ordered that the wives and families of the soldiers shall be well supplied with money. He is a great Tzar. However, it will be very lonely for Marya all through the winter, and if it were not for thinking of her I should be quite happy.
“Dimitri and I had to tramp thirty-two versts—a good stretch. We went some distance out of our way to reach an inn. But it was closed by the Tzar’s orders. Well, the Little Father knows best.
“We decided to walk all through the night, because we both wanted to be fighting the Nemetz as soon as possible. We had not gone far before a farm cart full of soldiers caught us up and they gave us a lift. It was rather cold, but we did not mind. We talked about the war, and the news about the inns. We are sure to win, but it is rather hard on the innkeepers, who will lose a lot of money. However, they are all rich.
“We reached —— before dawn. The officer there was very surprised, because the men from our district were not supposed to arrive until late in the evening. He was rather cross too, because everybody was coming too soon, and upsetting the arrangements. However, a landed proprietor offered his mansion for the use of the soldiers. Fancy that!
“The next day we marched to ——, where there is a railway station. There are no trains for the ordinary passengers, because the Tzar has taken them all for the soldiers. Fifty trainloads of soldiers are passing through —— every day! Dimitri said we should be able to get drinks at the station, but he was wrong. I hear now that it is a crime to give vodka to the soldiers.
“Our train was very full, because of the men all being so early. It was rather uncomfortable, but we were all too glad to be going to the front to notice it. At one station two boys, who had run away from home and wanted to fight, were discovered by an officer and turned out. They were very disappointed, but there was more room for us.
“At last, after sixteen hours, we reached ——. At first we thought that there was no accommodation for us, but we found that a camp had been prepared for us. The town was very full of soldiers, but they were all very orderly and quiet. The day after our arrival we received our new uniforms, rifles and other things. The uniforms are very smart, something like the English, I am told. The boots, too, are excellent. The very best leather. It is evidently true that the Tzar has made our army better than ever it was. It is a bad lookout for the Nemetz. In these uniforms and boots we shall be able to chase them all the way to Berlin quite comfortably.
“Our regiment is complete. To-morrow we start for Warsaw, where our Army Corps is forming. In a few days we shall meet the Nemetz. Good-bye.”