Yashka · Part III · Chapter 11 (1/2)

XI

I Organize the Battalion of Death

The journey to Petrograd was uneventful. The train was crowded to overflowing with returning soldiers who engaged in arguments day and night. I was drawn into one such debate. Peace was the subject of all discussion, immediate peace.

“But how can you have peace while the Germans are occupying parts of Russia?” I broke in. “We must win a victory first or our country will be lost.”

“Ah, she is for the old regime. She wants the Tsar back,” murmured some soldiers threateningly.

The delegate accompanying me here advised me to keep silence if I wanted to arrive safely in Petrograd. I followed his advice. He left me at the station when we got to the capital. It was in the afternoon, and I had never been in Petrograd before. With the address of Rodzianko on my lips I went about making inquiries how to go there. I was directed to take a tram, the first I had ever ridden in.

About five in the afternoon I found myself in front of a big house. For a moment I lost courage. “What if he has forgotten me? He may not be at home and nobody will know anything about me.” I wanted to retreat, but where could I go? I knew no one in the city. Plucking up courage, I rang the bell and awaited the opening of the door with a trembling heart. A servant came out and I gave my name, with the information that I had just arrived from the front to see Rodzianko. I was taken up in a lift, a new experience to me, and was met by the secretary of the President. He greeted me warmly, saying that he had expected me, and invited me to make myself at home.

President Rodzianko then appeared, exclaiming cordially:

“My little heroine! I am glad you have come,” and he kissed me on the cheek. He then presented me to his wife as his little heroine, pointing to my military decorations. She was very cordial and generous in her praise. “You have come just in time for dinner,” she said, leading me into her dressing-room to remove the dust of the journey. This warm reception cheered me greatly.

At the table the conversation turned on the state of affairs at the front. Asked to tell of the latest developments, I said, as nearly as I can remember:

“The agitation to leave the trenches and go home is growing. If there is not an immediate offensive, all is lost. The soldiers will disperse. It is also an urgent necessity to send back to the fighting line the troops now scattered in the rear.”

Rodzianko answered as nearly as I can remember as follows:

“Orders have been given to many units in the rear to go to the front. All have not obeyed, however. There have been demonstrations and protests on the part of several troops, due to Bolshevist propaganda.”

That was the first time I ever heard of the Bolsheviks. It was May, 1917.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“They are a group led by one Lenin, who has just returned from abroad by way of Germany, and Trotsky, Kollontai and other political exiles. They attend the meetings of the Soviet at the Tauride Palace, in which the Duma meets, stir up class-bitterness and demand immediate peace.”

I was further asked how Kerensky then stood with the soldiers, being informed that he had just left for a tour of the front.

“Kerensky is very popular. In fact, the most popular man with the men at the front. The men will do anything for him,” I replied.

Rodzianko then related an incident which made us all laugh. There was an old porter in the Government offices who had served many Ministers of the Tsar. Kerensky, it appeared, made it a habit to shake hands with everybody. So that whenever he entered his office he shook hands with the old porter, thus quickly becoming the laughingstock of the servants.

“Now, what kind of a Minister is it,” the old porter was overheard complaining to a fellow-servant, “who shakes hands with me?”

After dinner Rodzianko took me to the Tauride Palace, where he introduced me to a gathering of soldiers’ delegates, then in session. I was warmly welcomed and given a prominent seat. The speakers gave descriptions of conditions at various sections of the front that tallied exactly with my own observations. Discipline was gone, fraternization was on the increase, the agitation to leave the trenches was gaining strength. Something must be done quickly, they argued. How could the men be kept up to the mark till the moment when an offensive should be ordered? That was the problem.

Rodzianko arose and proposed that I should be asked to suggest a solution. He told them that I was a peasant who had volunteered early in the war and fought and suffered with the men. Therefore, he thought, I ought to know what was the right thing to do. Naturally, I was very much embarrassed. I was totally unprepared to make any suggestions and, therefore, begged to be excused until I had thought the matter over.

The session continued, while I sank deep into thought. For half an hour I racked my brain in vain. Then suddenly an idea dawned upon me. It was the idea of a Women’s Battalion of Death.

“You have heard of what I have done and endured as a soldier,” I said, rising to my feet and turning to the audience. “Now, how would it do to organize three hundred women like myself to serve as an example to the army and lead the men into battle?”

Rodzianko approved of my idea. “Provided,” he added, “we could find hundreds more like Maria Bochkareva, which I greatly doubt.”

To this objection I replied that numbers were immaterial, that what was important was to shame the men, and that a few women at one place could serve as an example to the entire front. “It would be necessary that the women’s organization should have no committees and be run on the regular army basis in order to enable it to help towards the restoration of discipline,” I further explained.

Rodzianko thought my suggestion splendid and dwelt upon the enthusiasm that would inevitably be kindled among the men if women should occupy some of the trenches and take the lead in an offensive.

There were objections, however, from the audience. One delegate got up and said:

“None of us can take exception to a soldier like Bochkareva. The men at the front know her and have heard of her deeds. But who will guarantee that the other women will be as decent as she and will not dishonour the army?”

Another delegate remarked:

“Who will guarantee that the presence of women soldiers at the front will not lead to the birth there of little soldiers?”

There was a general uproar at this criticism. I replied:

“If I take up the organization of a women’s battalion, I will hold myself responsible for every member of it. I will introduce rigid discipline and will allow no speechmaking and no loitering in the streets. When Mother Russia is drowning it is not a time to run an army by committees. I am a common peasant myself, and I know that only discipline can save the Russian Army. In the proposed battalion I should exercise absolute authority and insist upon obedience. Otherwise, there would be no use in organizing it.”

There were no objections to the conditions which I outlined as preliminary to the establishment of such a unit. Still, I never expected that the Government would consider the matter seriously and permit me to carry out the idea, although I was informed that it would be submitted to Kerensky upon his return from the front.

President Rodzianko took a deep interest in the project. He introduced me to Captain Dementiev, Commandant of the Home for Invalids, asking him to place a room or two at my disposal and generally take care of me. I went home with the Captain, who presented me to his wife, a dear and patriotic woman who soon became very much attached to me.

The following morning Rodzianko telephoned, suggesting that before the matter was broached to the War Minister, Kerensky, it would be wise to take it up with the Commander-in-Chief, General Brusilov, who could judge it from the point of view of the army. If he approved of it, it would be easier to obtain Kerensky’s permission.

General Headquarters were then at Moghilev and there we went, Captain Dementiev and I, to obtain an audience with the Commander-in-Chief. We were received by his Adjutant on the 14th of May. He announced our arrival and purpose to General Brusilov, who ordered that we should be shown in.

Hardly a week had elapsed since I left the front, and here I was again, this time not in the trenches, however, but in the presence of the Commander-in-Chief. It was a very sudden metamorphosis and I could not help wondering, deep in my soul, over the strange ways of fortune. Brusilov shook hands with us cordially. He was interested in the idea, he said. Wouldn’t we sit down? We did. Wouldn’t I tell him about myself and my ideas concerning the scheme?

I told him about my soldiering and my leaving the front because I could not reconcile myself to the prevailing conditions. I explained that the purpose of the plan would be to shame the men in the trenches by letting them see the women go over the top first. The Commander-in-Chief then discussed the matter from various points of view with Captain Dementiev and approved of my idea. He bade us adieu, expressing his hope for the success of my enterprise, and, in a happy frame of mine, I left for Petrograd.

Kerensky had returned from the front. We called on Rodzianko and told him of the result of our mission. He informed us that he had already asked for an audience with Kerensky and that the latter wanted to see him at seven o’clock the following morning, when he would broach the subject to him. After his call on Kerensky, Rodzianko telephoned to tell us that he had arranged for an audience for me with Kerensky at the Winter Palace at noon the next day.

Captain Dementiev drove me to the Winter Palace, and a few minutes before twelve I was in the antechamber of the War Minister. I was surprised to find General Brusilov there, and he asked me if I had come to see Kerensky about the scheme I had discussed with him. I replied that I had. He offered to support my idea with the War Minister, and introduced me to General Polovtzev, Commander of the Petrograd Military District, who was with him.

Suddenly the door swung open and a young face, with eyes inflamed from sleeplessness, beckoned to me to come in. It was Kerensky, at that moment the idol of the masses. One of his arms was in a sling. With the other he shook my hand. He walked about nervously and talked briefly and dryly. He told me that he had heard about me and was interested in my idea. I then outlined to him the purpose of the project, saying that there would be no committees, but regular discipline in the battalion of women.

Kerensky listened impatiently. He had evidently made up his mind on the subject. There was only one point of which he was not sure. Would I be able to maintain a high standard of morality in the organization? He would allow me to recruit it immediately if I made myself answerable for the conduct and reputation of the women. I pledged myself to do so. And it was all settled. I was granted the authority there and then to form a unit under the name of The First Russian Women’s Battalion of Death.

It seemed unbelievable. A few days ago it had dawned upon me as a mere fancy. Now the dream was adopted as a practical policy by the highest in authority. I was in ecstasy. As Kerensky showed me out his eyes fell on General Polovtzev. He asked him to give me all necessary help. I was overwhelmed with happiness.

A brief consultation took place immediately between Captain Dementiev and General Polovtzev, who made the following suggestion:

“Why not start at the meeting to be held tomorrow night in the Mariinsky Theatre for the benefit of the Home? Kerensky, Rodzianko, Chkheidze, and others will speak there. Let us put Bochkareva between Rodzianko and Kerensky on the programme.”

I was seized with nervousness and objected strenuously that I could never appear in public and that I should not know what to talk about.

“You will tell them just what you told Rodzianko, Brusilov and Kerensky. Just tell them how you feel about the front and the country,” they said, making light of my objections.

Before I had time to realize it I was already in a photographer’s studio, and there had my portrait taken. The following day this picture appeared at the head of big posters pasted all over the city, announcing my appearance at the Mariinsky Theatre for the purpose of organizing a Women’s Battalion of Death.

I did not close an eye during the entire night preceding the evening fixed for the meeting. It all seemed a fantastic dream. How could I take my place between two such great men as Rodzianko and Kerensky? How could I ever face an assembly of educated people, I, an illiterate peasant woman? And what could I say? My tongue had never been trained to elegant speech. My eyes had never beheld a place like the Mariinsky Theatre, formerly frequented by the Tsar and the Imperial family. I tossed in bed in a state of fever.

“Holy Father,” I prayed, my eyes streaming with tears, “show Thy humble servant the path to truth. I am afraid; instil courage into my heart. I can feel my knees give way; steady them with Thy strength. My mind is groping in the dark; illumine it with Thy light. My speech is but the common talk of an ignorant baba; make it flow with Thy wisdom and penetrate the hearts of my hearers. Do all this, not for the sake of Thy humble Maria, but for the sake of Mother Russia, my unhappy country.”

My eyes were red with inflammation when I arose in the morning. I was nervous all day. Captain Dementiev suggested that I should commit my speech to memory. I refused his suggestion with the remark:

“I have placed my trust in God and rely on Him to put the right words into my mouth.”

It was the evening of May 21, 1917. I was driven to the Mariinsky Theatre and escorted by Captain Dementiev and his wife into the former Imperial box. The house was packed, the receipts of the ticket office amounting to thirty thousand roubles. Everybody seemed to be pointing at me, and it was with great difficulty that I controlled my nerves.

Kerensky appeared and was given a tremendous reception. He spoke only about ten minutes. Next on the programme was Madame Kerensky, and I was to follow her. Madame Kerensky, however, broke down as soon as she found herself confronted by the audience. That did not add to my courage. I was led forward as if in a trance.

“Men and women citizens!” I heard my voice say. “Our mother is perishing. Our mother is Russia. I want to help to save her. I want women whose hearts are loyal, whose souls are pure, whose aims are high. With such women setting an example of self-sacrifice, you men will realize your duty in this grave hour!”

Then I stopped and could not proceed. Sobs choked the words in me, tremors shook me, my legs grew weak. I was caught under the arm and led away amid a thunderous outburst of applause.

Registration of volunteers for the Battalion from among those present took place the same evening, there and then. So great was the enthusiasm that fifteen hundred women applied for enlistment. It was necessary to put quarters at my immediate disposal and it was decided to let me have the building and grounds of the Kolomensk Women’s Institute, and I directed the women to come there on the morrow, when they would be examined and officially enlisted.