CHAPTER XXXII.

GENERAL KORNILOV'S MOVEMENT AND ITS REPERCUSSION ON THE SOUTH-WEST FRONT.

On August 27th I was thunderstruck by receiving from the Stavka news of the dismissal of General Kornilov from the post of Supreme Commander-in-Chief.

A telegram, unnumbered, and signed "Kerensky," requested General Kornilov to transfer the Supreme Command temporarily to General Lukomsky, and, without awaiting the latter's arrival to proceed to Petrograd. Such an order was quite illegal, and not binding, as the Supreme Commander-in-Chief was in no way under the orders either of the War Minister or of the Minister-President, certainly not of Comrade Kerensky.

General Lukomsky, Chief-of-Staff, answered the Minister-President in Telegram No. 640, which I give below. Its contents were transmitted to us, the Commanders-in-Chief by Telegram No. 6412. which I have not preserved. Its tenor, however, is clear from the deposition of Kornilov, in which he says: "I ordered that my decision (not to surrender my command, and first to elucidate the situation), and that of General Lukomsky, be communicated to the Commanders-in-Chief on all fronts."

Lukomsky's telegram, No. 640, ran as follows:

All persons in touch with military affairs were perfectly aware that, in view of the existing state of affairs, when the actual direction of internal policy was in the hands of irresponsible public organisations, having an enormously deleterious effect on the Army, it would be impossible to resurrect the latter; on the contrary, the Army, properly speaking, would cease to exist in two or three months. Russia would then be obliged to conclude a shameful separate peace, whose consequences to the country would be terrible. The Government took half measures, which, changing nothing, merely prolonged the agony, and, in saving the Revolution, did not save Russia. At the same time, the preservation of the benefits of the Revolution depended solely on the salvation of Russia, for which purpose the first step must be the establishment of a really strong Government and the reform of the home Front. General Kornilov drew up a series of demands, the execution of which has been delayed. In these circumstances, General Kornilov, actuated by no motives of personal gain or aggrandisement, and supported by the clearly-expressed will of the entire right-thinking sections of the Army and the Civil community, who demanded the speedy establishment of a strong Government for the saving of their native land, and of the benefits of the Revolution, considered more severe measures requisite which would secure the re-establishment of order in the country.

The arrival of Savinkov and Lvov, who in your name made General Kornilov similar proposals,[67] only brought General Kornilov to a speedy decision. In accordance with your suggestions, he issued his final orders, which it is now too late to repeal.

Your telegram of to-day shows that you have now altered your previous decision, communicated in your name by Savinkov and Lvov. Conscience demands from me, desiring only the good of the Motherland, to declare to you absolutely that it is now impossible to stop what was commenced with your approval; this will lead but to civil war, the final dissolution of the Army, and a shameful separate peace, as a consequence of which the conquests of the Revolution will certainly not be secured to us.

In the interests of the salvation of Russia you must work with General Kornilov, and not dismiss him. The dismissal of General Kornilov will bring upon Russia as yet unheard-of horrors. Personally, I decline to accept any responsibility for the Army, even though it be for a short period, and do not consider it possible to take over the command from General Kornilov, as this would occasion an outburst in the Army which would cause Russia to perish.

LUKOMSKY.

All the hopes which had been entertained of the salvation of the country and the regeneration of the Army by peaceful means had now failed. I had no illusions as to the consequences of such a conflict between General Kornilov and Kerensky, and had no hopes of a favourable termination if only General Krymov's Corps did not manage to save the situation. At the same time, not for one moment did I consider it possible to identify myself with the Provisional Government, which I considered criminally incapable, and therefore immediately despatched the following telegram:

I am a soldier and am not accustomed to play hide and seek. On the 16th of July, in a conference with members of the Provisional Government, I stated that, by a series of military reforms, they had destroyed and debauched the Army, and had trampled our battle honours in the mud. My retention as Commander-in-Chief I explained as being a confession by the Provisional Government of their deadly sins before the Motherland, and of their wish to remedy the evil they had wrought. To-day I receive information that General Kornilov, who had put forward certain demands capable yet of saving the country and the Army,[68] has been removed from the Supreme Command. Seeing herein a return to the planned destruction of the Army, having as its consequence the downfall of our country, I feel it my duty to inform the Provisional Government that I cannot follow their lead in this.

145 DENIKIN.

Simultaneously Markov sent a telegram to the Government stating his concurrence in the views expressed by me.[69]

At the same time I ordered the Stavka to be asked in what way I could assist General Kornilov. He knew that, besides moral support, I had no actual resources at my disposal, and, therefore, thanking me for this support, demanded no more.

I ordered copies of my telegrams to be sent to all Commanders-in-Chief, the Army Commanders of the South-Western Front, and the Inspector-General of Lines of Communication. I also ordered the adoption of measures which would isolate the Front against the penetration of any news of events, without the knowledge of the Staff, until the conflict had been decided. I received similar instructions from the Stavka. I think it hardly necessary to state that the entire Staff warmly supported Kornilov, and all impatiently awaited news from Moghilev, still hoping for a favourable termination.

Absolutely no measures for the detention of any persons were taken: this would have been of no use, and did not enter into our plans.

Meanwhile, the Revolutionary Democracy at the Front were in great agitation. The members of the Front Committee on this night left their quarters and lodged in private houses on the outskirts of the town. The assistants of the Commissar were at the time away on duty, and Iordansky himself in Zhitomir. An invitation from Markov to him to come to Berdichev had no result, either that night or on the 28th. Iordansky expected a "treacherous ambush."

Night fell, a long, sleepless night, full of anxious waiting and oppressive thoughts. Never had the future of the country seemed so dark, never had our powerlessness been so galling and oppressive. A historic tragedy, played out far from us, lay like a thundercloud over Russia. And we waited, waited.

I shall never forget that night. Those hours still live in mental pictures. Successive telegrams by direct wire: Agreement apparently possible. No hopes of a peaceful issue. Supreme Command offered to Klembovsky. Klembovsky likely to refuse. One after another copies of telegrams to the Provisional Government from all Army Commanders of my Front, from General Oelssner and several other Senior Officers, voicing their adherence to the opinion expressed in my telegram. A touching fulfilment of their _civic duty_ in an atmosphere saturated with hate and suspicion. Their _soldier's oath_ they could no longer keep. Finally, the voice of despair from the Stavka. For that is the only name for the General Orders issued by Kornilov on the night of the 28th:

The telegram of the Minister-President, No. 4163[70] in its entire first part is a downright lie: it was not I who sent Vv. N. Lvov, a member of the State Duma, to the Provisional Government. He came to me as a messenger from the Minister-President. My witness to this is Alexei Aladyin, member of the State Duma.

The great provocation, placing the Motherland on the turn of fate, is thus accomplished.

People of Russia. Our great Motherland is dying. Her end is near.

Forced to speak openly, I, General Kornilov, declare that the Provisional Government, under pressure from the Bolshevik majority in the Soviets, is acting in complete accordance with the plans of the German General Staff and simultaneously with the landing of enemy troops near Riga, is killing the Army, and convulsing the country internally.

The solemn certainty of the doom of our country drives me in these terrible times to call upon all Russians to save their dying native land. All in whose breasts a Russian heart still beats, all who believe in God, go into the Churches, pray Our Lord for the greatest miracle, the salvation of our dear country.

I, General Kornilov, son of a peasant Cossack, announce to all and everyone that I personally desire nothing save the preservation of our great Russia, and vow to lead the people, through victory over our enemies, to a Constituent Assembly, when they themselves will settle their fate and select the form of our new national life.

I cannot betray Russia into the hands of her ancient enemy--the German race!--and make the Russian people German slaves. And I prefer to die honourably on the field of battle, that I may not see the shame and degradation of our Russian land.

People of Russia, in your hands lies the life of your native land!

This order was despatched to the Army Commanders for their information. The next day one telegram from Kerensky was received at the Commissariat, and from then all our communications with the outside world were interrupted.[71]

Well, the die was cast. A gulf had opened between the Government and the Stavka, to bridge which was now impossible.

On the following day, the 28th, the Revolutionary institutions, seeing that absolutely nothing threatened them, exhibited a feverish activity. Iordansky assumed the "military authority," made a series of unnecessary arrests in Zhitomir among the senior officials of the Chief Board of Supplies, and issued, under his signature and in his own name, that of the Revolutionary organisations and that of the Commissary of the Province, an appeal, telling, in much detail and in the usual language of proclamations, how General Denikin was planning "to restore the old régime and deprive the Russian people of Land and Freedom."

At the same time similar energetic work was being carried on in Berdichev under the guidance of the Frontal Committee. Meetings of all the organisations went on incessantly, along with the "education" of the typical rear units of the garrison. Here the accusation brought forward by the Committee was different: "The counter-Revolutionary attempt of the Commander-in-Chief, General Denikin, to overthrow the Provisional Government and restore Nicholas II. to the throne." Proclamations to this effect were circulated in numbers among the units, pasted on walls, and scattered from motor-cars careering through the town. The nervous tension increased, the streets were full of noise. The members of the Committee became more and more peremptory and exigent in their relations with Markov. Information was received of disorders which had arisen on the Lyssaya Gora (Bald Hill). The Staff sent officers thither to clear up the matter and determine the possibility of pacification. One of them--a Tchekh officer, Lieutenant Kletsando--who was to have spoken with the Austrian prisoners, was attacked by Russian soldiers, one of whom he wounded slightly. This circumstance increased the disturbance still more.

From my window I watched the crowds of soldiers gathering on the Lyssaya Gora, then forming in column, holding a prolonged meeting, which lasted about two hours, and apparently coming to no conclusion. Finally the column, which consisted of a troop of orderlies (formerly field military police), a reserve _sotnia_, and sundry other armed units, marched on the town with a number of red flags and headed by two armoured cars. On the appearance of an armoured car, which threatened to open fire, the Orenburg Cossack _sotnia_, which was on guard next the Staff quarters and the house of the Commander-in-Chief, scattered and galloped away. We found ourselves completely in the power of the Revolutionary Democracy.

"Revolutionary sentries" were posted round the house. The Vice-President of the Committee, Koltchinsky, led four armed "comrades" into the house for the purpose of arresting General Markov, but then began to hesitate, and confined himself to leaving in the reception-room of the Chief-of-Staff two "experts" from the Frontal Committee to control his work. The following wireless was sent to the Government: "General Denikin and all his staff have been subjected to personal detention at his Stavka. In the interests of the defence the guidance of the activity of the troops has been left in their hands, but is strictly controlled by the delegates of the Committee."

Now began a series of long, endless, wearisome hours. They will never be forgotten. Nor can words express the depth of the pain which now enveloped our hearts.

At 4 p.m. on the 29th Markov asked me into the reception-room, where Assistant-Commissary Kostitsin came with ten to fifteen armed Committee members and read me an "order from the Commissary of the South-Western Front, Iordansky," according to which I, Markov, and Quartermaster-General Orlov were to be subjected to preliminary arrest for an attempt at an armed rising against the Provisional Government. As a man of letters Iordansky seemed to have become ashamed of the arguments about "land," "freedom," and "Nicholas II.," designed exclusively for inflaming the passions of the mob.

I replied that a Commander-in-Chief could be removed from his post only by the Supreme Commander-in-Chief or by the Provisional Government; that Commissary Iordansky was acting altogether illegally, but that I was obliged to submit to force.

Motor-cars drove up, accompanied by armoured cars, and Markov and I took our seats. Then came the long waiting for Orlov, who was handing over the files; then the tormenting curiosity of the passers-by. Then we drove on to Lyssaya Gora. The car wandered about for a long time, halting at one building after another, until at last we drove up to the guard-house; we passed through a crowd of about a hundred men who were awaiting our arrival, and were greeted with looks full of hatred and with coarse abuse. We were taken into separate cells; Kostitsin very civilly offered to send me any of my things I might require, but I brusquely declined any services from him; the door was slammed to, the key turned noisily in the lock, and I was alone.

In a few days the Stavka was liquidated. Kornilov, Lukomsky, Romanovsky, and others were taken off to the Bykhov Prison.

The Revolutionary Democracy was celebrating its victory.

Yet at that very time the Government was opening wide the doors of the prisons in Petrograd and liberating many influential Bolsheviks--to enable them to continue, publicly and openly, their work of destroying the Russian Empire.

On September 1 the Provisional Government arrested General Kornilov; on September 4 the Provisional Government liberated Bronstein Trotsky. These two dates should be memorable for Russia.

* * * * *

Cell No. 1. The floor is some seven feet square. The window is closed with an iron grating. The door has a small peep-hole in it. The cell is furnished with a sleeping bench, a table, and a stool. The air is close--an evil-smelling place lies next door. On the other side is cell No. 2, with Markov in it; he walks up and down with large, nervous strides. Somehow or other I still remember that he makes three steps along his cell, while I manage, on a curve, to make five. The prison is full of vague sounds. The strained ear begins to distinguish them, and gradually to make out the course of prison life, and even its moods. The guards--I guess them to be soldiers of the prison guard company--are rough and revengeful men.

It is early morning. Someone's voice is booming. Whence? Outside of the window, clinging to the grating, hang two soldiers. They look at me with cruel, savage eyes, and hysterically utter terrible curses. They throw in something abominable through the open window. There is no escape from their gaze. I turn to the door--there another pair of eyes, full of hatred, peers through the peep-hole; thence choice abuse pours in also. I lie down on the sleeping-bench and cover my head with my cloak. I lie for hours. The whole day, one after another, the "public accusers" replace each other at the window and at the door--the guards allow all to come freely. And into the narrow, close kennel pours, in an unceasing torrent, a foul stream of words, shouts, and curses, born of immense ignorance, blind hate, and bottomless coarseness. One's whole soul seems to be drenched with that abuse, and there is no deliverance, no escape from this moral torture chamber.

What is it all about? "Wanted to open the Front" ... "sold himself to the Germans"--the sum, too, was mentioned--"for twenty thousand roubles" ... "wanted to deprive us of land and freedom." This was not their own, this was borrowed from the Committee. But Commander-in-Chief, General, gentleman--this, indeed, was their own! "You have drunk our blood, ordered us about, kept us stewing in prison; now we are free and you can sit behind the bars yourself. You pampered yourself, drove about in motor-cars; now you can try what lying on a wooden bench is, you ----. You have not much time left. We shan't wait till you run away--we will strangle you with our own hands." These warriors of the rear scarcely knew me at all. But all that had been gathering for years, for centuries, in their exasperated hearts against the power they did not love, against the inequality of classes, because of personal grievances and of their shattered lives--for which someone or other was to blame--all this now came to the surface in the form of unmitigated cruelty. And the higher the standing of him who was reckoned the enemy of the people, and the deeper his fall, the more violent was the hostility of the mob and the greater the satisfaction of seeing him in its hands. Meanwhile, behind the wings of the popular stage stood the managers, who inflamed both the wrath and the delight of the populace; who did not believe in the villainy of the actors, but permitted them even to perish for the sake of greater realism in the performance and to the greater glory of their sectarian dogmatism. These motives of party policy, however, were called "tactical considerations."

I lay, covered head and all by my cloak and, under a shower of oaths, tried to see things clearly:

"What have I done to deserve this?"

I went through the stages of my life.... My father was a stern soldier with a most kindly heart. Up to thirty years of age he had been a peasant serf and was drafted into the Army, where, after twenty-two years of hard service in the ranks, under the severe discipline of the times of Nicholas I, he was promoted to the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. He retired with the rank of Major. My childhood was hard and joyless, amidst the poverty of a pension of 45 roubles a month. Then my father died. Life became still harder. My mother's pension was 25 roubles a month. My youth was passed in study and in working for my daily bread. I became a volunteer in the Army, messing in barracks with the privates. Then came my officer's commission, then the Staff College. The unfairness of my promotion, my complaint to the Emperor against the all-powerful Minister of War, and my return to the 2nd Artillery Brigade. My conflict with a moribund group of old adherents of serfdom; their accusation of demagogy. The General Staff. My practice command of a company in the 183rd Pultussk Regiment. Here I put an end to the system of striking the soldiers and made an unsuccessful experiment in "conscious discipline." Yes, Mr. Kerensky, I did this also in my younger days. I privately abolished disciplinary punishment--"watch one another, restrain the weak-spirited--after all, you are decent men--show that you can do your duty without the stick." I finished my command: during the year the behaviour of the company had not been above the average, it drilled poorly and lazily. After my departure the old Sergeant-Major, Stsepoura, gathered the company together, raised his fist significantly in the air and said distinctly, separating his words:

"Now it is not Captain Denikin whom you will have. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sergeant-Major."

It was said, afterwards, that the company soon showed improvement.

Then came the war in Manchuria; active service; hopes for the regeneration of the Army. Then an open struggle, in a stifled Press, with the higher command of the Army, against stagnation, ignorance, privileges and licence--a struggle for the welfare of the officer and the soldier. The times were stern--all my service, all my military career was at stake. Then came my command of a regiment, constant care for the improvement of the condition of the soldiers, after my Pultussk experience--strict service demands, but also respect for the human dignity of the soldier. At that time we seemed to understand one another and were not strangers. Then came war again, the "Iron" Division, nearer relations with the rifleman and work with him in common. The staff was always near the positions, so as to share mud, want of space, and dangers with the men. Then a long, laborious path, full of glorious battles, in which a common life, common sufferings and common fame brought us still closer together, and created a mutual faith and a touching proximity.

No, I have never been an enemy to the soldier.

I threw off my cloak, and, jumping from the wooden bed, went up to the window, where the figure of a soldier clung to the grating, belching forth curses.

"You lie, soldier! It is not your own words that you are speaking. If you are not a coward, hiding in the rear, if you have been in action, you have seen how your officers could die. You have seen that they...."

His hands loosened their grip and the figure disappeared. I think it was simply because of my stern address, which, despite the impotence of a prisoner, produced its usual effect.

Fresh faces appeared at the window and at the peep-hole in the door.

It was not always, however, that we met with insolence alone. Sometimes, through the assumed rudeness of our gaolers we could see a feeling of awkwardness, confusion and even commiseration. But of these feelings they were ashamed. On the first cold night, when we had none of our things, a guard brought Markov, who had forgotten his overcoat, a soldier's overcoat, but half an hour later--whether he had grown ashamed of his good action, or whether his comrades had shamed him--he took it back. In Markov's cursory notes we find: "We are looked after by two Austrian prisoners.... Besides them, we have as our caterer a soldier, formerly of the Finland Rifles (a Russian), a very kind and thoughtful man. During our first days he, too, had a hard time of it--his comrades gave him no peace; now, however, matters are all right; they have quieted down. His care for our food is simply touching, while the news he brings is delightful in its simplicity. Yesterday, he told me that he would miss us when we are taken away.

"I soothed him by saying that our places would soon be filled by new generals--that all had not yet been destroyed."

My heart is heavy. My feelings seem to be split in two: I hate and despise the savage, cruel, senseless mob, but still I feel the old pity for the soldier: an ignorant, illiterate man, who has been led astray, and is capable both of abominable crimes and of lofty sacrifices!

Soon the duty of guarding us was given to the cadets of the 2nd Zhitomir School of 2nd Lieutenants. Our condition became much easier from the moral point of view. They not only watched over the prisoners, but also guarded them from the mob. And the mob, more than once, on various occasions, gathered near the guard-room and roared wildly, threatening to lynch us. In such cases the company on guard gathered hastily in a house nearly opposite us and the cadets on guard made ready their machine-guns. I recall that, calmly and clearly realising my danger, when the mob was especially stormy, I planned out my method of self-defence: a heavy water-bottle stood upon my table; with it I might hit the first man to break into my cell; his blood would infuriate and intoxicate the "comrades," and they would kill me at once, without torturing me....

With the exception, however, of such unpleasant moments, our life in prison went on in a measured, methodical way; it was quiet and restful; after the strain of our campaigning, and in comparison with the moral suffering we had undergone, the physical inconveniences of the prison régime were mere trifles. Our life was varied by little incidents. Sometimes a Bolshevist cadet standing at the door would tell the sentry loudly, so that his words might be heard in the cell, that at their last meeting the comrades of Lyssaya Gora, having lost all patience, had finally decided to lynch us, and added that this was what we deserved. Another time, Markov, passing along the corridor, saw a cadet sentry leaning on his rifle, with the tears streaming from his eyes--he felt sorry for us. What a strange, unusual exhibition of sentiment in our savage days.

For a fortnight I did not leave my cell for exercise, not wishing to be an object of curiosity for the "comrades," who surrounded the square before the guard-room and examined the arrested generals as if they were beasts in a menagerie. I had no communication with my neighbours, but much time for meditation and thought.

And every day as I open my window I hear from the house opposite a high, tenor voice--whether of friend or foe I know not--singing:

"This is the last day that I ramble with you, my friends."