XXI POLITICS AND PRINKIPO

All the time that I was in Chita, Ataman Semenoff and Kolchak were at odds. Kolchak, accusing Semenoff with interfering with railroad traffic at Chita and so hampering Kolchak’s “All Russian Government” in Omsk, issued his famous order in which he denounced Semenoff as a traitor. And while that order stood, Kolchak or Kolchak’s officers, asked Semenoff to send his forces to Irkutsk and other points toward Omsk to anticipate Bolshevist uprisings which were threatened.

Semenoff declined to lend his forces so long as Kolchak branded him as a traitor. He denied that he had interfered with trains bound to or from Omsk, and denied that he had cut telegraph wires or held up messages.

On January second, Ivanoff-Renoff (Ivanov-Renov), “Commanding General of the Siberian army and Ataman of Siberian Cossacks,” according to the card I got from him, arrived in Chita in a special train with a staff. He had come from Kolchak to treat with Semenoff, and find out on what terms Semenoff would join Kolchak against the Bolshevists.

I called upon General Ivanoff-Renoff. He was at tea in his dining-car, with three or four of his staff. He is a tall, soldierly man, with thin face, clean-cut jaws, and most alert and intelligent. He impressed me as being the ideal type of Russian general in appearance. Proud without being haughty, frank without conveying the idea that he sought the good graces of anybody for the purpose of misleading them, a manner of quiet determination which suggested that he would not hesitate to be cruel if necessary to gain his ends, he looked every inch the commander. He wore several imperial orders.

“Commanding General of the Siberian Army and Ataman of Siberian Cossacks” was rather a wide and all-embracing description, considering the fact that Semenoff commanded some five thousand men supposed to be Siberians, and was himself a Siberian Ataman in Trans-Baikal. There probably was some conflict of authority, yet the Trans-Baikal has been represented to me as not being really Siberia. However, stand Ivanoff-Renoff beside Semenoff, in civilian attire, and on the instant I would select Ivanoff-Renoff as a Siberian Cossack chief, and hire Semenoff for a motorman. I do not mean to imply by this that Semenoff’s abilities do not go beyond his being a motorman, but merely wish to state that, compared with Ivanoff-Renoff, Semenoff does not contrast favorably with the other.

At that time, it was reported that Trotsky had said that the Bolshevist government would control all Russia in six months. I had my interpreter quote Trotsky to Ivanoff-Renoff. He smiled grimly, and said: “Before then we will have hanged Trotsky.”

Ivanoff-Renoff remained several days in Chita. I heard that Semenoff offered to join forces with Kolchak if the latter would withdraw the “traitor” order, but that in no case could he coöperate with Kolchak while that order stood. I do not see that Semenoff could take any other stand.

Ivanoff-Renoff investigated the charges that Semenoff had interfered with supply and troop trains for Kolchak, and I heard that he reported to Omsk that there had been misunderstandings, or exaggerations, and that the charge should be withdrawn against Semenoff, together with the “traitor” order. It seems that Kolchak was not satisfied with this report, and in time Ivanoff-Renoff departed for Vladivostok, and was reported to have broken with Kolchak because Kolchak did not take his recommendations in the proper spirit. It was said that a commission would be sent by Kolchak to take the matter up in detail, which I suppose made Ivanoff-Renoff feel that his services were of no more value to Kolchak. It would be absurd to suppose that I knew the real truth of what was going on.

Both parties were probably playing for time, and keeping the Allies confused. And all hands were waiting to see which way the cat of the Peace Conference in Paris would jump. There was a new rumor in the corridors of the Hotel Select every fifteen minutes. If I had attempted to report them to Vladivostok, it would have taken a dozen private wires and as many expert operators. But I did put considerable credence in the rumour that Grand Duke Michael was in Harbin waiting for the “proper time” to accomplish a coup d’etat and take the throne.

As a sample of Asiatic intrigue, while Ivanoff-Renoff was in Chita, it was rumored that Semenoff was going to Harbin for a conference with some mysterious person. It was also said that the Ataman needed the services of a surgeon, as his wounds from the bomb were not healing properly. Two days later it was reported that the Ataman had suffered a collapse and returned to his bed, and that the trip to Harbin was postponed indefinitely.

As a matter of fact, a couple of private cars of the Ataman had been run up on a siding close to his residence, and the night that he was supposed to be back in his bed, he secretly boarded his train, and was whisked down the line. And his staff officers who remained in Chita were gravely informing me that the Ataman was at home and feeling very ill.

This demonstrates the amount of dependence which could be put in information given out by Semenoff’s headquarters. It reveals the reason why Americans and Russians were not coöperating to the puzzlement of our statesmen at home. As a matter of fact, Semenoff went to Harbin, and then went on to Vladivostok. And I so reported to Vladivostok.

AN EXAMPLE OF CARVING ON A TYPICAL SIBERIAN HOUSE

TYPICAL RUSSIAN CHURCH IN CITIES OF SIBERIA

Yet while Semenoff’s train was lying in the yards of Vladivostok, and our own headquarters were watching for him, headquarters got a story that Semenoff was still in Chita, and certain staff officers were rather peevish that they should be misled as to the whereabouts of Semenoff. They were told that Semenoff happened to be in their front yard, and to look a little closer for him there. They did, and found him.

It was about this time that news reached us in Chita that the Bolshevist leaders had been invited to meet at Prinkipo with the delegates of the Peace Conference. Our dispatch was translated into Russian by our Committee on Public Information in Siberia, and telegraphed to all the Siberian newspapers.

The effect was similar to letting loose about my ears a hornet’s nest. A Japanese staff-officer came to my room in haste to ask what it meant. He seemed afraid that the United States intended to recognize the Bolshevist government. And he was extremely puzzled, which of course reflected the attitude of General Oba, which was that after the Allies had come into Siberia to restore order the United States appeared about to take sides with those creating the disorder.

In any event, the United States appeared willing to treat with Bolshevism, a fact which would strengthen Bolshevism. All I could say was that the Prinkipo invitation was obviously based upon conditions of which we in Siberia knew nothing, and that it was likely that the text of the message as we received it, had been garbled in transit.

The humorous aspect of the invitation was that “all parties” were invited to be in Prinkipo, in the Sea of Marmora by the first of February, or some fifteen days after the invitation was issued. Considering the fact that it had taken me thirteen days to travel from Vladivostok to Chita, a distance of two thousand versts, fifteen days for all delegates from Russia and Siberia to get to Prinkipo revealed the fact that those who set the date were ignorant of the conditions of travel in Siberia—or bluffing diplomatically.

So the Japanese were perturbed by the Prinkipo invitation—that is, as perturbed as a Japanese permits himself to be.

The effect on the Cossack officers of Siberia, was to fill them with suspicion toward the United States, to make them feel that we were not playing fair with them, and to give them the impression that they had been betrayed into the hands of the Bolshevists. In other words, that the Bolshevists were right, and that all anti-Bolshevist forces were wrong.

The information we got was to the effect that President Wilson recognized a state of revolution in Russia and desired no counter-revolutionary action.

“But we are counter-revolutionists,” expostulated an officer high in the councils of Semenoff. “We have been fighting the Bolshevists from the first, and always will fight them. This information that your president is willing to hold a conference with a lot of robbers and murderers, spread broadcast over the country, gives the Bolshevists a standing they have never had before. And that is not the worst of it—we have in our armies men who have been Bolshevists, and who have been more or less argued out of it. These men are now beginning to suspect that our representations to them against Bolshevism are false, and we may have mutiny in our forces. It has been hard enough to fight Bolshevist propaganda, in and out of our armies, but this thing has made us afraid that we cannot hold the former active Bolshevists and Bolshevist sympathizers whom we have won to our side. Even if nothing is done toward a conference, this invitation in itself will do our cause great harm, and the Bolshevist leaders much good. We feel that the United States has turned against us, or will in time recognize the Bolshevist government.”

All I could do was to state that President Wilson was the head of my government, and commander in chief of our army, and that no matter what course he pursued, no matter what orders he or his subordinate officers issued, I should obey. And that if I were in a position to know his intentions and all the facts in the matter, my personal opinion could have no effect upon my obedience to orders. And that I could not enter into a discussion of decisions made in Paris or elsewhere regarding the policy of the United States. Also, that I had faith that the United States would act consistently with its history and aspirations, and for the good of Russia. I asserted that the invitation to Prinkipo might be a desire to get the Bolshevist leaders to define their position regarding Russia, and to commit themselves to a line of action—in other words to state their ideas and ideals. And if their desires did not meet approval, then we would take a stand against Bolshevism and the Bolshevists. But my arguments did not reassure him much—he felt that all the damage had been done.

Now I found a new spirit among those persons who were known to me as Bolshevist sympathizers. I had had many frank talks with some of these people, and had listened to their arguments in favor of Bolshevism. These people now became almost insolent. They told me in effect that I ought to go home, as my president had taken preliminary steps to recognize the Bolshevist government, seeing that it would be useless to combat the Bolshevist rule. They were right, and I was wrong by being there in their country, and what was I doing, they asked, walking around with a pistol in my belt. My answer to this was, if my president felt they were right, and that the presence of American troops in Siberia was wrong, my president as commander in chief would withdraw the American forces from Siberia. All my Bolshevist friends had to do, and all I had to do, I told them, was wait for that order.

For an officer who was practically on diplomatic duty, it was rather a peculiar position—far inland in Siberia, with all parties suspicious of him and his government. The Bolshevists regarded me with more open hostility, the anti-Bolshevists not quite sure I was a friend, the principal Allied power in Chita somewhat hurt and suspicious that it might be discredited in Siberia, and such Russians as concealed whatever partisanship they secretly held, discouraged and believing that their country was to be betrayed to the Bolshevists by the nation which they looked to for the most aid and moral support. And American officers and civilians were scattered through the country, practically alone, and far from supporting or protecting troops.

For a couple of weeks the Hotel Select buzzed with noisy discussions in which the principal word was “Americanskys.” More than ever, I felt that any nation sending its forces into a country, should know what it intends to do before such troops are sent. And if it gets an expedition into a foreign country and finds that conditions have changed which leaves the purposes for which the expedition may be used, in doubt, the expedition should be put into transports and sent to its own territory. No man should expect to be a leader without being willing to make decisions, and assume the responsibility for his decisions. The man who is not brave enough to make a decision, should be retired to private life. The quality of a man’s decisions is the only test of his leadership, regardless of what his uttered ideals may be. Good intentions with bad decisions will ruin a nation much more quickly than autocratic ideas wisely expressed in action.

The United States must expect leadership in all its executive branches because the will of the people in our vast country regarding foreign affairs solidifies too slowly for the man in power during a crisis to follow public opinion in matters which touch upon the safety of the nation. National good must stand above the good of parties.

I was more discouraged by the views of the Prinkipo invitation than were the Siberians or the Japanese. They suspected my attitude, for I had always expressed myself as opposed to Bolshevism. But the Cossacks had difficulty in understanding my reticence regarding my private opinions and my avowal that I would stand with my political chiefs. Probably they thought I should ferment an American revolution!

The Japanese understood better, I think, loyalty to government. Probably, knowing I was anti-Bolshevist, they expected me to commit hara-kiri.