Part 4

Khabarovsk was filled with the men of the local Cossack hetman, Kalmikoff, known to our forces as Ataman Kalmikoff, a title which appears to be derived from the Turkish, just as the name “Cossack” is the Turkish _kazak_, or robber. The accent falls upon the last syllable, and the Russian spelling follows the Turkish, so that “y k” worn on the sleeve of a soldier marked him as an Ussuri Cossack.

I was living in the quarters of Lieutenant-Colonel Morrow, as his guest, with the regimental adjutant of the Twenty-seventh Infantry, and a young regimental supply officer. Colonel Morrow had commanded the column which hastened to reinforce the Japanese division in the action south of Khabarovsk, but the Bolshevists dissolved after a desultory fight, and the infantry, fresh from the Philippines, did not get into the battle. At that time Colonel Styer, commander of the Twenty-seventh, was in Vladivostok in command of the expedition, General Graves and his staff not having arrived.

Colonel Styer was now in command of the American forces at Khabarovsk, and I found him all that is meant by the term “an officer and a gentleman.” I can say the same of all the officers of the Twenty-seventh that I had the pleasure of meeting. And Colonel Morrow, in whose house and company I spent my pleasantest days in Siberia, I found to be a hard-fisted soldier of the old school, who knows his business and expects everybody in his command to know it likewise, or give the reason why. He knows the American soldier down to the ground, and is the type of officer the enlisted man delights in--an officer who realizes their difficulties on campaign, talks to them as a father, and never allows any doubt to arise as to who is boss.

On Sunday morning, October 6, 1918, Colonel Styer kindly sent word to me that Ataman Kalmikoff was to conduct a ceremony incident to the organization of a new regiment of Cossacks, and inviting me to attend with the staff.

An orderly brought a horse for me at the appointed time for departure, and as I mounted, I felt the thrill that can only come to a man who, after a lapse of thirteen years, again finds himself in an American army saddle and an American army horse between his knees.

We rode down through the gullys and over the decrepit bridges, into the town, and dismounted in front of the big Russian church on a cliff over the Amur. Here we found a long line of Cossacks on their horses, drawn up in single rank across the street from the church, facing the little square. There was a great throng of Siberians, keeping at a respectful distance from the raised lances shining above the heads of the shaggy ponies.

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.

The band became silent, an altar was set up in the square before the assembled troops, and a Russian mass was said. Kalmikoff and his staff stood at one side with bared and bowed heads, and on the opposite side, General Oi, and his staff at attention. In line with the Japanese, were Colonel Styer and his staff. But General Oi, as fitting for the ranking officer, stood a trifle to the front, in such position that he was almost directly in front of me, and as he bared his head, I was conscious of his shaven poll gleaming between me and the altar. He is a short, stocky, sturdy-looking man, with round, shaven face, of most martial bearing, and bears himself with quiet dignity.

Thrust up behind the altar was the gorgeously colored and embroidered standard of the new regiment. The priest, in chanting the mass, at times removed his mitre, and his long black hair fell over his shoulders, equalled only in length by his heavy beard. The choir nearby sang the responses, and their voices were most sweet.

I watched Kalmikoff. A young man, said to have been born in 1884, he is scarcely more than five feet tall, slight of build, with bluish eyes, and a small mustache. He wore a saber, and a small pistol slipped into the loop of a strap hanging from his belt, rather than a holster--a pistol so small as to suggest a derringer. His aspect was proud and military, but he did not make the figure one would expect to see head of several provinces of Cossacks. However, he is reputed to be very brave, a good commander, and a dashing leader of irregular horse, such as the Cossacks are. I heard that in the charge, if any of his men attempted to ride ahead of him, he promptly cut them down with his saber.

He had made himself a Major General, it was said, and we understood that he was civil and military governor of the Ussuri district. His claim to the title of Ataman I never understood fully; some said he was hereditary chief of all the Cossacks of that section, and some said he had been elected to that position by the Cossacks, while others maintained that he had set himself up as the local prince, with no more to back his authority than a small band of partizans who were organized into a military staff, chiefly engaged at that time in executing everybody who opposed his rule.

Already, reports were coming down to our headquarters that protests were being made by the civilians of Khabarovsk, that many people were being executed by Kalmikoff’s orders without trial, and that the victims were merely such personal enemies, or such persons as might question Kalmikoff’s authority.

But our position of “non-interference” with Russian affairs, made it difficult for our staff to either advise Colonel Styer, or for Colonel Styer to take any action other than to make official inquiry of Kalmikoff as to the executions. Not that I infer Colonel Styer or our staff found it difficult to obey orders, but Kalmikoff happened to be one of the “Russian people,” and how could an American officer interfere with Kalmikoff’s executions without interfering with a Russian?

And at that time, Kalmikoff’s exploits in fighting the Bolshevist forces were uppermost in the minds of some of our officers, and it appeared that what Kalmikoff did at that time was considered by some subordinate officers to be indicative of his abilities as a ruler. I heard one young officer say while I was in Khabarovsk the first time: “The Ataman is a smart fellow. He sits at his desk in headquarters, and when a couple of prisoners are brought in, he looks at them with those snapping little eyes of his, and waving his hand, says: ‘take ’em out and shoot ’em.’”

That, to some minds, may be proof that a general or a ruler is great; but I could not see that government by firing squads by Kalmikoff is any better than government by firing squads under the Czar. It all depends pretty much upon who is going to be shot, and what the person is to be shot for.

If it happened to be a man of the city who privately expressed an opinion that Kalmikoff had no business executing peaceful citizens, who was to be shot for expressing that opinion, the procedure as I see it, is in line with Villa and similar bandits who keep in the public eye by having the power and machinery for wholesale human butchery.

The fact that a man may be brave, dashing, and wear a picturesque hat, has nothing to do with a judgment of his abilities or his morality. Government by machine-gun may be necessary in certain cases, but it means that the ruler who has to resort to such tactics has oppressed the people, or has not made proper use of the printing-press--in other words, has not educated the people over whom he rules, in the proper ideas.

I consider Kalmikoff a young upstart, not at all concerned with what happened to Russia, but attempting to take power to himself in a crisis, and then aping the worst elements of the old régime. And I believe that his interests were largely material, and in such form that the gains financially might easily be taken out of the country. Because he had fought the Bolshevists, in no sense assured me that he was at all what he posed as being--a Russian patriot, working for the rehabilitation of a great and united Russia. I may not have been alone in this measure of the man, among the American officers, and in speaking only for myself, I do not wish to imply that I was the only one to so gauge his character.

To return to the ceremonies, when the mass in the square was over, the priest blessed the colors of the new regiment, and threw upon them holy water. Then he presented them to Kalmikoff, who half knelt to receive them, with a blessing. Standing, and thrusting up the flag, he made a speech to his troops, in which he said, among other things, that they were always to guard it with their lives, as true Russians.

The color-bearer rode forward and took it from the Ataman’s hands, and then the lances were hoisted, and the Cossacks cheered both flag and Ataman.

After receiving the congratulations of the officers assembled, Kalmikoff invited us to review his men with him, and we mounted and rode down the street to the position from which we were to review the force.

As we rode along, we observed three Russians on the sidewalk with their hands bound behind their backs, being hustled along by Cossacks, and we heard whispers that they were to be shot. But we discreetly pretended not to see these prisoners, and wheeled in our horses to let the new regiment pass.

The Cossacks approached in column of fours, their new flag in the lead, and Kalmikoff took the salutes of the commanders. The men of the First Ussuri Regiment, as it was called, were a motley lot but undoubtedly were good cavalry of the irregular type. Their uniforms were a queer mixture of stuffs, and at times, it was hard to realize as some squads passed, that this was really an army. It looked more like a gathering of the clans from the hills and plains, and most of them needed a haircut, as well as a shave. But they looked proud and determined, and able to over-awe any mob of civilians that might gather to riot, or to do good work charging or raiding an enemy of neater and more soldierly appearance. Their arms showed good care, but their long-haired Siberian ponies probably never had felt a brush. Altogether, it looked like an army that had been sleeping in its clothes for weeks, instead of a regiment turned out in a capital city to get official baptism.

In passing, I wish to state that a few months later, these very troops mutinied against the severity of Kalmikoff, and seeking protection from Colonel Styer, were disarmed. I heard that the Japanese commander demanded the arms, claiming them as property of the Imperial Japanese Government. So the lack of discipline so apparent on the day of the “new Russian army’s” birth, rebounded upon the commander, and indicates that on that day he held his power by a very thin thread.

After the review we went to what was apparently a hotel, judging from the sign, but which was reputed to be Kalmikoff’s private residence. He had probably borrowed it, after the style of Cossack chiefs usurping power. We lunched there, while the band played in an adjoining room. At the head of the table sat Lieutenant General Oi, at his right, Colonel Styer. Kalmikoff’s officers, in the seating of the guests, happened to put me beside Kalmikoff’s chair, half way down the table from General Oi, the seats between General Oi and Kalmikoff being occupied by a Japanese colonel, and a Japanese staff captain.

As it turned out, the lunch was in the nature of a compliment to General Oi, and in due time Kalmikoff made a speech in Russian, in which he thanked General Oi for the aid the Japanese forces had rendered him, making it possible to establish this regiment just formed. Kalmikoff spoke no English. After each sentence, an interpreter gave the translation in Japanese, another interpreter gave us the English of it.

General Oi responded likewise through an interpreter, and as he spoke, gazed steadily at the opposite wall, waiting patiently for his staff officers to render his remarks into Russian and English. We understood that he wished the new Russian army success, and pledged the help of his forces in making it a success.

There were considerable international politics being let loose in that room. In effect, the Japanese were backing Kalmikoff, and when we came to protest against Kalmikoff’s actions, we were really protesting what appeared to be actions advised by the Japanese; at least, it is safe to draw the conclusion that, owing General Oi what he asserted he did, Kalmikoff was not running counter to General Oi’s wishes. And I have heard it said that whenever Colonel Styer asked Kalmikoff to explain the reasons for executions, Kalmikoff went directly to General Oi’s headquarters before making his reply to Colonel Styer.

I do not bring these matters in as a criticism of the Japanese. I cite heresay and such facts as I know, to show that the Japanese were stronger politically in their situation in that part of Siberia, than we were. It may be safely assumed that General Oi was acting according to instructions, and from that I deduce that the Japanese government had a policy of upholding all forces avowedly and surely anti-Bolshevists. It may have been the correct policy. At least, Kalmikoff knew that he could depend upon the Japanese to back him up in putting down the Bolshevists. He had no such assurance from our government.

It is human nature to lean to the side which declares itself, and the Japanese made no secret of the fact that they were backing Kalmikoff with arms and money, and standing in the background while he consolidated his power. This means that the Japanese were really in control of things in the Ussuri, and for wanting to hold that control, I do not blame them, considering that they had large military forces in the country, and were there as enemies to the Bolshevists.

The Japanese took sides. This meant that at least one side knew them as friends. In our case, the anti-Bolshevist forces of the Russians, then chiefly the Cossack forces, were confused by our attitude of grouping all Russian factions and classes together, with what appeared to be a distinct leaning to the Bolshevist side. The result was that real anti-Bolshevists suspected our motives and were most cautious in taking us into their confidence. But the Japanese had the full confidence of the anti-Bolshevist leaders, and to have the confidence of either side in such times, gives a decided advantage in getting a grasp of the situation.

I have no means of knowing the motives of the Japanese in giving financial and military assistance to the various Cossack chiefs. I have no particular reason for assuming that their motives were anything but what they claimed them to be--to put down Bolshevism. I do doubt that the Japanese motives were wholly to assist Russia in rehabilitating itself as a great and powerful empire; I do doubt that the Japanese Imperial government, sought or seeks to see Russia a united and powerful republic. Russia has been a source of worry to Japan for many years, and the many barracks built in Siberia since the Russo-Japanese war, have not had a tendency to remove that worry. For if the war had not broken in 1914, or if it had ended without smashing the régime of the Czar, Japan would have felt the weight once more of the Bear’s paw.

The bigger cities of Siberia are cities which have grown up round new brick barracks. There are literally miles of these barracks all through Siberia along the railroad. These quarters could not have been necessary for an army of the size contemplated by this construction, merely to keep order in Siberia.

It is plain enough that Russia contemplated revenge for the Manchurian fiasco. The Czar undoubtedly intended to throw a vast army into Siberia, move it against Japan, throw another army into Siberia behind in reserve, and keep hammering Japan till the island Empire was destroyed or rendered harmless in a military and naval way. He was waiting for a new fleet capable of coping with Nippon’s navy. And Japan knew it. I have doubts that she wishes to see that menace once more in her back yard, and under the present system of competition between nations for territory, I do not blame her for wishing to protect herself. Her methods are another matter.

VII

FROM KHABAROVSK TO USHUMUN

A glance at the map shows that a wedge of Manchuria runs up into Siberia. Khabarovsk is at the northern point. The Amur, flowing in a general westerly direction, bending southerly along the northern boundary of the Manchurian province of Tsitsihar, and then turning to the north sharply as it comes in contact with the province of Kirin, runs up the westerly side of the wedge, and from Khabarovsk flows almost due north, where it empties into Amur Gulf, near the Siberian port of Nikolaievsk, opposite the northern end of Saghalien Island.

The Amur branch of the trans-Siberian railroad crosses the Amur River a little to the north of Khabarovsk, and almost parallels the river, but at a considerable distance to the north of it, crossing many tributaries of the Amur flowing from the north. The red line marking the railroad, superimposed on a standard wall map, shows no railroad stations till Kerak, some fifteen hundred versts west of Khabarovsk. And the sectional Intelligence map which I had, was little better, for the spelling of the towns was so radically different, that except for the larger places of simple spelling, I gave up using it except to orient myself by identifying the various small rivers.

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.