XV ATAMAN SEMENOFF

It will be remembered by the reader that the officer whom I relieved at Chita, feared assassination. I have no reason to believe that he did not have good grounds for his fears. Naturally, I assumed that I was taking over his dangers, when I took his post. And despite the presence of Semenoff’s army, and his armored train in the railroad yards, there was a feeling of uneasiness in the city. Sentries were posted in the centers of the streets, and kept their little fires burning every night. There were rumors every day that the Bolshevists in the city were about to rise and slay, or that Bolshevist bands were going to swoop down upon us from some other city, and complete the destruction they had begun before Semenoff drove them away.

ATAMAN SEMENOFF, CHIEF OF THE TRANS-BAIKAL COSSACKS

MONGOL AND TARTAR DESCENDANTS OF CONQUERING
HORDES WITH 1919 MODEL “CARS”

And the fact that the man who threw the bomb at Semenoff in the theatre was a private in one of the Ataman’s infantry regiments, kept the officers on the alert. The bomb-thrower, who said his name was Bernbaum, was reported to have confessed coming from Irkutsk where he had drawn the number which delegated to him the killing of the Ataman. He asserted that he had been instructed by the “Maximalists” or Bolshevists, to go to Chita and join Semenoff’s army, and wait his chance to kill. His bomb killed a woman in the Ataman’s box, and wounded several men, the Ataman suffering several wounds from bits of the bomb.

There were stories of mutinies among Semenoff’s troops, and there were whisperings that all of Semenoff’s officers were not loyal. Most of his men were mercenaries anyhow, and the bulk of his forces was made up of Mongols, Buriats, some Russians who were truly anti-Bolshevist, and many who had wisely attached themselves to an organization which gave food, clothing and shelter in exchange for carrying a rifle and doing guard duty.

When the bomb was thrown from the gallery, one of Semenoff’s officers jumped up and cried: “I will have everybody in the gallery shot, if you will give the order, Ataman!”

“No, no, we must not do that!” replied the stricken Ataman. But there were many arrests, and shortly afterward there were several executions. Later, the actual bomb-thrower was arrested while escaping toward Blagoveschensk. I never learned his fate, but heard that he had given several names to the Ataman’s officers, and that the men mentioned were not far from Chita. I suspect that on one of the nights I was being banqueted, there was a shooting party.

I had sent word to the staff that when the Ataman had recovered, I wished to pay a formal call. We had not recognized Semenoff as an official governmental head, yet we did make calls on him, just as we talked with anybody who could give us an inkling as to what was going on. Instructions were in general to meet everybody on a friendly basis, but to take no sides.

One evening I got word that the Ataman would see me. I set out for his residence with a Russian civilian agent, who had come from Manila with the expedition. His name was Nicholas Romanoff, a name which amused many of the Cossack officers.

But Mr. Romanoff knew the Ataman intimately, and Mr. Romanoff kindly suggested to me the things I should say to the Ataman, just as no doubt he suggested to the Ataman what the Ataman should say to me. This state of affairs indicates to some extent the ease and ability of American officers getting an absolute American viewpoint on Russian affairs, and the Russian and Cossack officers being able to understand fully the American attitude.

I considered it about as satisfactory a proceeding, for Russian and American interests, as getting a kiss through a plate-glass window. I imagine that the interpreters got satisfaction, for they were automatically turned into diplomats, and controlled both sides. And the power granted them, made it possible for them to reflect the point of view from which they might acquire for themselves the most prestige. But in the case of Mr. Romanoff, there was every evidence that he displayed discretion and tact. He was the personal interpreter of the Chief of Intelligence, who had brought him to Siberia from Manila. And Mr. Romanoff had known Siberia well before he had changed it as a place of residence, for the Philippines.

At that season of the year we lost the sun about four thirty in the afternoon, and it was getting quite dark as we approached the Ataman’s residence. We were halted by the sentry, and on explaining our mission, were admitted to the hall. Here we were met by officers of the Ataman’s personal staff, and after the usual bowing, and heel-clicking, left our furs, and were ushered into a large drawing-room. The room was richly and tastefully furnished. The high-posted walls were hung with splendid tapestries, and the floor beautifully carpeted.

There were a few pieces of black furniture, which appeared to be of the ornately-carven Chinese variety. The whole effect was more oriental than Cossack, though of course the real Cossack is probably more oriental than anything else. And, in fact, I had heard that Semenoff was more of a Mongolian than a Cossack, being according to report, a Prince of Van. The only place of which I know named Van is in European Turkey, though there may be a Van in Mongolia.

The Ataman entered, on crutches. I saw a stockily-built man, of medium height, wearing Prussian blue trousers rather small at the bottoms of the legs, suggestive of being habitually worn with boots. He had on slippers. His face was heavily-jowled, very dark, his chin chubbily-protuberant in the Rubens style. He wore heavy drooping black mustaches, his black eyes keen and somewhat suspicious, his hair suggestive of scantness on top, and a Napoleonic lock down over his low, broad forehead.

His photographs were always made so as to bring out his Napoleonic points, which I had heard he prided himself upon. He was credited with carrying a book in his pocket which told how Napoleon acted in every situation which required a decision, and that when he had to decide anything, he first consulted the book. Evidently my visit brought up no point which required a Napoleonic decision—at least, I did not see him consult the book while I was there.

I was bowed to a chair, and the Ataman let himself down gently on a couch. He seemed a trifle worried, but he may have been oppressed by pain. He had only recently induced the banks of Chita to loan him several million rubles to pay off his army—and a local banker had called on me that day. After we had talked a little, and I had told the Ataman that I had heard of his ability as an organizer and leader of armies, and of his prowess in battle, he appeared relieved, and pulled the lock on his forehead down a bit more.

The lady who presided over his Chita household came in. The slight view I took of her as I rose and bowed, leaves me no recollections. Even had I desired to be courteous to a woman in her position, discretion counselled as little notice as possible.

I had heard that more than one Russian officer with an admiring eye for “wives” of other officers, had been picked up dead in the streets. A sharp look from the Ataman, and the hostess did not linger. I remember that she did not have on the pearl necklace for which the Ataman was said to have paid several hundred thousand rubles in Harbin, at a time when he was short of money for his troops. His domestic régime was reputed to cost him as much for upkeep as his army. Perhaps, after all, I was not introduced to the lady who got the pearls.

I had a cigar, and we talked of safe trifles. I was there some twenty minutes. And as we passed through the line of sentries about the Ataman’s palace-like mansion, into the cold crisp air, I saw on the plain below, thousands of lights burning in rude log huts. It was all so typical of Asia—few palaces and many huts. One man, with an army at his back, “borrowing” from the banks to cast pearl before swine. What better conditions to breed Bolshevism? But the same conditions exist among the leaders of the Bolshevists, who merely play the mobs against the military exploiters of the people, to get control of the banks and the money, and to have wealth for spending in the same style. Thus the ignorance of the people prevent them from escaping exploitation in some form or another. We of the United States think that it will be settled by waiting for the people to organize themselves, so that they may express their will. It is a case of waiting till new generations have been educated.

People have said to me: “There maybe disorder now in Siberia, but I believe that the common people know what they are doing, and will do what they want to do.”

They know what they are doing in the same style that the country yokel at home knows what he is doing when he goes to New York and buys at bargain prices several lots in Central Park. The difference between what he is doing, and what he thinks he is doing, costs him dearly. The Bolshevists the world over are in the hands of a crafty lot of confidence men.