Yashka · Part III · Chapter 14 (2/3)

There being no immediate prospect of a conclusion of the debate in the Ninth Corps, the Commander ordered us to save ourselves by retreat. The difficulty was to extricate ourselves without being detected by the Germans. I ordered first one group to go back some distance and stop, and then another and then a third group to do the same till we reached almost the fringe of the forest. It was a slow and perilous undertaking, full of anxious moments during the shiftings of the line, but everything went smoothly and our hopes were raised.

Our line was drawn in, and we were preparing for the final retreat when terrific shouts of “Hurrah!” suddenly rang out, almost simultaneously, on both flanks. We were half surrounded! Another quarter of an hour and the net would have completely surrounded us. There was no time to lose. I ordered a helter-skelter retreat.

The German artillery increased in violence, and the enemy’s rifles played havoc with us from both sides. I ran for all I was worth several hundred feet, till knocked unconscious by the terrific concussion of a shell that landed near me. My adjutant, Lieutenant Filippov, saw me fall, picked me up and dashed through the devastating fire, the German trench system, the open space that was No Man’s Land before the offensive, and into the Russian trenches.

There the Ninth Corps was still debating. But it was already too late. As the breathless survivors of the Battalion, bespattered with mud and blood, made their way one by one into our trenches, it became obvious that there was no use in any further deliberations. The offensive had been all to no purpose. The Germans re-occupied, without opposition, all the ground and trenches we had won at such terrible cost. There were only two hundred women left in the ranks of my Battalion.

I regained consciousness at a hospital in the rear. I was suffering from shell-shock. My hearing was affected and, while I could understand what was said to me, I was unable to talk. I was sent to Petrograd and was met at the station by a distinguished gathering, including many of my patronesses and some distinguished army officers. Kerensky sent his adjutant. General Vasilkovsky, successor to Polovtzev as Commander of the Petrograd Military District, was also present. I was deluged with flowers and kisses. But to all the congratulations I could make not a sound in reply, lying motionless on the stretcher.

I was taken to a hospital and given a large, beautiful room. Kerensky came to see me, kissed me on the forehead, and presented me with a handsome bouquet. He made a little speech, apologizing for the trouble he had given me in the controversy about introducing the committee system in the Battalion, praising me for my bravery, and declaring that I had set a wonderful example to the men all over the front. He invited me to call on him as soon as I got well.

President Rodzianko visited me the following day. He was very depressed and pessimistic over the condition of the country.

“Russia is perishing,” he said, “and there is no salvation in prospect for her. Kerensky relies too much on his own power, and is blind to what is going on around him. General Kornilov requested that Kerensky should grant him the necessary authority to restore discipline in the army, but Kerensky refused, saying that he was able to accomplish it himself in his own fashion.”

While I was in the hospital a delegate from the front brought me a testimonial from my Corps Committee! It appeared that two days after I was wounded the Committee, which usually comprised the more intelligent soldiers, met in session and discussed all night how they could best reward my conduct. A resolution was passed in which praise and thanks were expressed to me for brave leadership in an attack which resulted in the capture of two thousand prisoners. The testimonial was a record of the resolution, signed by the members of the Corps Committee. Later, the men would have done anything to revoke their signatures, as they deeply regretted this tribute to me, an implacable enemy of the Germans, from the entire corps, which was infected even then with the Bolshevist spirit.

I learned that Lieutenant Filippov had taken charge of the Battalion, gathering the survivors from all the units with which they identified themselves during and after the retreat. However, he did not remain with the Battalion, resigning in order to join an aviation detachment in the south, after he had organized the remnant of my unit. It was also reported to me that the Commander of the Corps had recommended me for a cross.

Another week passed before I recovered my speech and my normal condition, although the effects of the shock did not disappear completely for some weeks. A woman friend of mine told me that Kornilov was expected to arrive in Petrograd the next day, and that his relations with Kerensky were strained, on account of their different views as to the restoration of discipline at the front. I telephoned to the Winter Palace for an appointment, and the War Minister’s adjutant reported my request to Kerensky, who said that he could receive me immediately, even sending his car for me.

Kerensky welcomed me heartily, expressing his gladness at my recovery. He asked me what was the reason why the soldiers would not fight. In reply I told him in detail the story of my fruitless offensive, how the men had called meetings and debated for hours and days whether to advance or not. I told only the facts, as narrated above, and Kerensky was deeply impressed. In conclusion I said:

“You can see for yourself that the committees stand for talk, endless talk. An army that talks is not a fighting army. In order to save the front it is necessary to abolish the committees and introduce strict discipline. General Kornilov seems to be the man to accomplish this. I believe he can do it. All is not yet lost. With an iron hand the Russian Army can be restored. Kornilov has such a hand. Why not give him the right to use it?”

Kerensky agreed with me generally. “But,” he said, “Kornilov wants to restore the old regime. He may take the power into his own hands and put back the Tsar on the throne.”

This I could not believe, and I said so to Kerensky. He replied that he had grounds for believing that Kornilov wanted the monarchy reestablished.

“If you are not convinced,” Kerensky continued, “go over to General Headquarters, have a talk with Kornilov, find out all you can about his intentions, and come back to report to me.”

I realized immediately that Kerensky was asking me to act for him in the role of a secret agent, but I was interested. The thought occurred to me again and again:

“What if Kerensky is right, and Kornilov really wants the Tsar back?”

My country was in a bad state, but I dreaded to think of a return of Tsarism. If Kornilov was for the old regime, then he was an enemy of the people, and Kerensky was right in hesitating to invest the General with supreme authority. I therefore accepted his proposal.

I was, however, uneasy at the thought of the errand I had undertaken and resolved to go to Rodzianko, whom I look upon as my best friend, and make a clean breast of it. When I told him of my conversation with Kerensky he said:

“This is Kerensky’s old game⁠—suspecting everybody of being for the old regime. I don’t believe it of Kornilov. He is an honest, straightforward man. Still, if you feel in doubt about it yourself, come, let us go over together to Headquarters. Do not go as a spy, but tell Kornilov the truth to his face.”

We took a train for General Headquarters and were admitted to Kornilov soon after our arrival. I told him frankly what had passed between Kerensky and myself a couple of days before. Kornilov reddened. He jumped up and began to pace the room in a rage.

“The scoundrel! The upstart! I swear by the honour of an old soldier that I do not want Tsarism restored. I love the Russian muzhik as much as any man in the country. We have fought together and understand one another. If I were only given authority, I would soon restore discipline by punishing, if necessary, a few regiments. I could organize an offensive in a few weeks, beat the Germans and have peace this year even now. He is driving the country to perdition, the rascal!”

Kornilov’s words were like sword-thrusts. There was no question but that the man spoke from the depth of his soul. His agitation was real beyond a doubt. He continued to walk the room fiercely, talking of the certain collapse of the front if measures were not taken without delay.

“The idiot! He cannot see that his days are numbered. Bolshevism is spreading rapidly in the army, and it will not be long before the tide swamps him. Today he allows Lenin to carry on his propaganda in the army without hindrance. Tomorrow Lenin will have got the upper hand, and everything will be wrecked.”

We left Kornilov, and I had to decide whether to make a report to Kerensky or not. I must confess to a feeling of shame when I thought of how I had carried out the errand. I therefore asked Rodzianko to tell Kerensky of Kornilov’s attitude toward Tsarism and I boarded a train for Moscow, where I had been invited to review the local Women’s Battalion, organized in imitation of mine. There were many such battalions formed all over Russia.

When I arrived at the barracks and was taken before the fifteen hundred girls who had enlisted in the Moscow unit, I nearly fainted at the sight of them. They were nearly all rouged, they were wearing slippers and fancy stockings, they were wantonly dressed and very casual in their bearing. There were a good many soldiers about, and their behaviour with the girls was revolting.

“What is this, a house of shame?” I cried out in my grief. “You are a disgrace to the army! I would have you disbanded at once, and I shall do my best to see that you are not sent to the front!”

A storm of protest broke loose.

“What is all this, the old regime or what?” shouted some indignant voices.

“What’s that? Discipline? How dare she talk in that fashion?” cried others.

In a moment I was surrounded by a mob of indignant men who drew closer and closer, threatening to kill me. The officer who accompanied me apparently knew the temper of the crowd and realized the danger I had brought upon myself. He sent an urgent call to General Verkhovsky, Commander of the Moscow Military District, who was very popular with all the troops.

Meanwhile my escort was doing his best to calm the raging throng which soon grew to about one thousand. Closer and closer the circle drew in about me, and I was ready to say my last prayers. One man tripped me by the foot, and I fell. Another brought down the heel of his boot on my back. Only another minute and I should have been lynched. But God was with me. Verkhovsky arrived not an instant too soon and dashed into the crowd, which separated to make way for him. He addressed a few words to the men. They had a magic effect. I was saved.

From Moscow I went to the front, and when my girls saw me arrive there was general jubilation. “The Commander has come back!” they shouted, as they danced about. They had had a hard time in my absence, but unfortunately I did not remain long. In the evening of the day of my arrival a telegram came from General Kornilov, requesting my immediate presence. I left without delay for Army Headquarters, and there met the Commander-in-Chief and Rodzianko. The three of us went to Petrograd to see Kerensky. It was on the eve of the great Moscow Assembly, which met on the 28th of July.

During this journey Kornilov talked of his childhood. He was born in Mongolia, the son of a Russian father and a Mongolian mother. The conditions of life some fifty years ago in the Far East were such as to inure one to any hardships. Thence it was that Kornilov derived his contempt for danger and his spirit of adventure. He was given a good education by his father, who, I believe, was a frontier trader of peasant stock, but rose to his high position by sheer ability and doggedness. He learned to speak a dozen languages and dialects, more from mixing with all kinds of people than from books. In short, Kornilov was not of an aristocratic family or brought up in select surroundings. His knowledge of men and affairs was gained at first hand. He had enjoyed close contact with the Russian muzhik and workman. Himself of reckless valour, he came to love the Russian peasant-soldier for his contempt of death.

Upon our arrival at Petrograd we all went together to the Winter Palace. Kornilov entered Kerensky’s study first, leaving us to wait in the antechamber. It was a long wait for Rodzianko and myself. Kornilov remained locked up with Kerensky for two whole hours, and our ears bore witness to the stormy nature of the interview inside. When the Commander-in-Chief finally emerged from the office his face was flushed.

Rodzianko and I were admitted next. Kerensky was visibly agitated. He said that he had not expected me to carry out his errand in such a manner. I had not acted rightly, he declared.

“Perhaps I am guilty towards you, Minister,” I replied. “But I acted according to my conscience, and did what I felt was my duty to the country.”

Rodzianko then addressed Kerensky in some such manner as the following:

“Bochkareva reports from the front that you are rapidly losing favour with both men and officers; the officers because of the decay of discipline, the men because of their desire to go home. Now, consider what is happening to the army. It is going to pieces. The fact that the soldiers could allow a group of women and officers to perish is proof that the situation is critical. Something must be done immediately. Give absolute authority in the army to Kornilov, and he will save the front. And do you remain at the head of the Government, to save us from Bolshevism.”

I joined Rodzianko in his plea. “We are rapidly nearing an abyss,” I urged, “and it will soon be too late. Kornilov is an honourable man, I am convinced of it. Let him save the army now, so that people shall not say afterwards that Kerensky destroyed the country!”

“That will never happen!” he cried, banging his fist on the table. “I know what I am doing!”

“You are destroying Russia!” exclaimed Rodzianko, angered by Kerensky’s arrogance. “The blood of the country will be on your head.”

Kerensky turned red, then white as a corpse. His appearance frightened me. I thought he would fall down dead.

“Go!” he shrieked, beside himself, pointing toward the door. “Leave this room!”

Rodzianko and I moved to the exit. At the door Rodzianko stopped for a moment, turned his head and flung a few biting words at the Minister.

Kornilov was waiting for us in the anteroom. We drove to Rodzianko’s house for luncheon. There, Kornilov related to us the substance of his conference with Kerensky. He had told him that the soldiers were deserting the front in droves and that those who remained were useless, as they visited the German trenches every night and came back drunk in the morning. The fraternization had extended to the entire front. A whole Austrian regiment, well provided with liquor, came over to our trenches at one point and a debauch followed. Kornilov described the experience of my Battalion as related in official reports that had reached him and declared that numerous messages from officers asking for instructions were coming to him daily. But what instructions could he give? He had to seek instructions himself from Kerensky.

At this point the Minister asked him what was to be done, and he replied that capital punishment must be reestablished, that the committees must be abolished, that the Commander-in-Chief must be given full authority to disband units and execute agitators and rebels, if the front was to be saved from collapse and the country from an immense disaster.