In the old Russian Army the national question scarcely existed. Among the soldiery the representatives of the races inhabiting Russia experienced somewhat greater hardships in the service, caused by their ignorance or imperfect knowledge of the Russian language, in which their training was carried on. It was only this ground—the technical difficulties of training—and perhaps that of general roughness and barbarism, but in no case that of racial intolerance, that often led to that friction, which made the position of the alien elements difficult, the more so that, according to the system of mixed drafting, they were generally torn from their native lands; the territorial system of filling the ranks of the Army was considered to be technically irrational and politically—not void of danger. The Little Russian question in particular did not exist at all. The Little Russian speech (outside the limits of official training), songs and music received full recognition and did not rouse in anyone any feeling of separateness, being accepted as Russian, as one’s own. In the Army, with the exception of the Jews, all the other alien elements were absorbed fairly quickly and permanently; the community of the Army was in no way a conductor either for compulsory Russification or for national Chauvinism.

Still less were national differences to be noticed in the community of officers. Qualities and virtues—corporative, military, pertaining to comradeship or simply human, overshadowed or totally obliterated racial barriers. Personally, during my twenty-five years of service before the revolution, it never came into my head to introduce this element into my relations as commander, as colleague, or as comrade. And this was done intuitively, not as the result of certain views and convictions. The national questions which were raised outside the Army, in the political life of the country, interested me, agitated me, were settled by me in one or the other direction, harshly and irreconcilably at times, but always without trespassing on the boundaries of military life.

The Jews occupied a somewhat different position. I shall return to this question later. But it may be said that, with respect to the old Army, this question was of popular rather than of political significance. It cannot be denied that in the Army there was a certain tendency to oppress the Jews, but it was not at all a part of any system, was not inspired from above, but sprang up in the lower strata and in virtue of complex causes, which spread far outside of the life, customs, and mutual relations of the military community.

In any case, the war overthrew all barriers, while the revolution brought with it the repeal, in legislative order, of all religious and national restrictions.

With the beginning of the revolution and the weakening of the Government, a violent centrifugal tendency arose in the borderlands of Russia, and along with it a tendency towards the nationalisation, i.e., the dismemberment, of the Army. Undoubtedly, the need of such dismemberment did not at that time spring from the consciousness of the masses and had no real foundation (I do not speak of the Polish formations). The sole motives for nationalisation then lay in the seeking of the political upper strata of the newly formed groups to create a real support for their demands, and in the feeling of self-preservation which urged the military element to seek in new and prolonged formations a temporary or permanent relief from military operations. Endless national military congresses began, without the permission of the Government and of the High Command. All races suddenly began to speak; the Lithuanians, the Esthonians, the Georgians, the White Russians, the Little Russians, the Mohammedans—demanding the “self-determination” proclaimed—from cultural national autonomy to full independence inclusive, and principally the immediate formation of separate bodies of troops. Finally, more serious results, undoubtedly negative as regards the integrity of the Army, were attained by the Ukrainian, Polish, and partially by the Trans-Caucasian formations. The other attempts were nipped in the bud. It was only during the last days of the existence of the Russian Army, in October, 1917, that General Shcherbatov, seeking to preserve the Roumanian front, began the classification of the Army, on a large scale, according to race—an attempt which ended in complete failure. I must add that one race only made no demand for self-determination with regard to military service—the Jewish. And whenever a proposal was made from any source—in reply to the complaints of the Jews—to organise special Jewish regiments, this proposal roused a storm of indignation among the Jews and in the circles of the Left, and was stigmatised as deliberate provocation.

The Government showed itself markedly opposed to the reorganisation of the Army according to race. In a letter to the Polish Congress (June 1st, 1917) Kerensky expressed the following view: “The great achievement of the liberation of Russia and Poland can be arrived at only under the condition that the organism of the Russian Army is not weakened, that no alterations in its organisation infringe its unity.... The extrusion from it of racial troops ... would, at this difficult moment, tear its body, break its power, and spell ruin both for the revolution and for the freedom of Russia, Poland, and of the other nationalities inhabiting Russia.”

The attitude of the commanding element towards the question of nationalisation was dual. The majority was altogether opposed to it; the minority regarded it with some hope that, by breaking their connection with the Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Delegates, the newly created national units might escape the errors and infatuations of democratisation and become a healthy nucleus for fortifying the front and building up the army. General Alexeiev resolutely opposed all attempts at nationalisation, but encouraged the Polish and Tchekho-Slovak formations. General Brussilov allowed the creation of the first Ukrainian formation on his own responsibility, after requesting the Supreme Commander-in-Chief “not to repeal it and not to undermine his authority thereby.”[41] The regiment was allowed to exist. General Ruzsky, also without permission, began the Esthonian formations,[42] and so forth. From the same motives, probably, which led some commanders to allow formations, but with a reverse action, the whole of the Russian revolutionary democracy, in the person of the Soviets and the army committees, rose against the nationalisation of the Army. A shower of violent resolutions poured in from all sides. Among others, the Kiev Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Delegates, about the middle of April, characterised Ukrainisation in rude and indignant language, as simple desertion and “hide-saving,” and by a majority of 264 against 4 demanded the repeal of the formation of Ukrainian regiments. It is interesting to note that as great an opponent of nationalisation was found in the Polish “Left,” which had split off from the military congress of the Poles in June, because of the resolution for the formation of Polish troops.

The Government did not long adhere to its original firm decision against nationalisation. The declaration of July 2nd, along with the grant of autonomy to the Ukraine, also decided the question of nationalising the troops: “The Government considers it possible to continue its assistance to a closer national union of the Ukrainians in the ranks of the Army itself, or to the drafting into individual units of Ukrainians exclusively, in so far as such a measure does not injure the fighting capacity of the Army ... and considers it possible to attract to the fulfilment of those tasks the Ukrainian soldiers themselves, who are sent by the Central Rada to the War Ministry, the General Staff, and the Stavka.”

A great “migration of peoples” began.

Other Ukrainian agents journeyed along the front, organising Ukrainian gromadas and committees, getting resolutions passed for transfers to Ukrainian units, or concerning reluctance to go to the front under the plea that “the Ukraine was being stifled” and so forth. By October the Ukrainian committee of the Western front was already calling for armed pressure on the Government for the immediate conclusion of peace. Petlura affirmed that he had 50,000 Ukrainian troops at his disposal. Yet the commander of the Kiev military district, Colonel Oberoutchev,[43] bears witness as follows: “At the time when heroic exertions were being made to break the foe (the June advance) I was unable to send a single soldier to reinforce the active army. As soon as I gave an order to some reserve regiment or other to send detachments to reinforce the front, a meeting would be called by a regiment which had until then lived, peaceably, without thinking of Ukrainisation, the yellow and blue Ukrainian flag would be unfurled and the cry raised: ‘Let us march under the Ukrainian flag!’

“And after that they would not move. Weeks would pass, a month, but the detachments would not stir, either under the red, or under the blue and yellow flag.”

Was it possible to combat this unconcealed care for their own safety? The answer is given by Oberoutchev again—an answer very characteristic in its lifeless party rigour:

“Of course, I could have used force to get my orders obeyed. And that force lay in my hands.” But “by using force against the disobedient, who are acting under the Ukrainian flag, one risks the reproach that one is struggling not against acts of anarchy, but against national freedom and the self-determination of nations. And for me, a Socialist-Revolutionary, to risk such a reproach, and in the Ukraine too, with which I had been connected all my life, was impossible. And so I decided to resign.”[44]

And he resigned. True, it was only in October, shortly before the Bolshevist coup d’État, having occupied the post of commander of the troops in the most important district next the front for nearly five months.

As a development of the orders of the Government, the Stavka appointed special divisions on each front for Ukrainisation, and on the South-Western front also the 34th Army Corps, which was under the command of General Skoropadsky. To these units, which were mostly quartered in the deep reserve, the soldiers flocked from the whole front, without leave asked or given. The hopes of the optimists on the one hand and the fears of the Left circles on the other that nationalisation would create “firm units” (counter-revolutionary in the terminology of the Left) were speedily dispersed. The new Ukrainian troops were permeated with the same elements of disintegration as the regulars.

Meanwhile, among the officers and old soldiers of many famous regiments with a great historical past, now transformed into Ukrainian units, this measure roused acute pain and the recognition that the end of the Army was near.[45] In August, when I was in command of the South-Western front, bad news began to come to me from the 34th Army Corps. The corps seemed to be escaping from direct subordination, receiving both directions and reinforcements from the “General Secretary Petlura” directly. His commissary was attached to the Staff of the corps, over which waved the “yellow-blue flag.” The former Russian officers and sergeants, left in the regiments because there was no Ukrainian command, were treated with contumely by the often ignorant Ukrainian ensigns set over them and by the soldiers. An extremely unhealthy atmosphere of mutual hostility and estrangement was gathering in these units.

I sent for General Skoropadsky and invited him to moderate the violent course of the process of Ukrainisation and, in particular, either to restore the rights of the Commanders or to release them from service in the corps. The future Hetman declared that a mistaken idea had been formed of his activity, probably because of the historical past of the Skoropadsky family,[46] that he was a true Russian, an officer of the Guards and was altogether free of all seeking for self-determination, that he was only obeying orders, for which he himself had no sympathy. But immediately afterwards Skoropadsky went to the Stavka, whence my Staff received directions to aid the speedy Ukrainisation of the 34th Army Corps.

The question of the Polish formations was in a somewhat different position. The Provisional Government had declared the independence of Poland, and the Poles now counted themselves “foreigners”; Polish formations had long ago existed on the South-Western front, though they were breaking up (with the exception of the Polish Lancers); having given permission to the Ukrainians, the Government could not refuse it to the Poles. Finally, the Central Powers, by creating the appearance of Polish independence, also had in view the formation of a Polish Army, which, however, ended in failure. America also formed a Polish Army on French territory.

In July, 1917, the formation of a Polish corps was assigned to the Western front, of which I was then Commander-in-Chief. At the head of the corps I put General Dovbor-Mousnitsky,[47] who is now in command of the Polish Army at Poznan. A strong, energetic, resolute man, who fearlessly waged war on the disintegration of the Russian troops and on the Bolshevism among them, he succeeded in a short time in creating units which, if not altogether firm, were, in any case, strikingly different from the Russian troops in their discipline and order. It was the old discipline, rejected by the Revolution—without meetings, commissaries or committees. Such units roused another attitude towards them in the Army, notwithstanding the rejection of nationalisation in principle. Being supplied with the property of the disbanded mutinous divisions and treated with complaisance by the Chief of Supplies, the corps was soon able to organise its own commissariat. By order, the ranks of the officers in the Polish corps were filled by the transfer of those who desired it, and the ranks of the soldiers—exclusively by volunteers or from reserve battalions; practically, however, the inevitable current from the front set in, caused by the same motives which influenced the Russian soldiers, devastating the thinned ranks of the Army.

In the end the Polish formations turned out to be altogether useless to us. Even at the June military congress of the Poles, fairly unanimous and unambiguous speeches were heard which defined the aims of these formations. Their synthesis was thus expressed by one of the delegates: “It is a secret for no one that the War is coming to an end, and we need the Polish Army, not for the War, not for fighting; we need it so that at the coming international conference we may be reckoned with, that there should be power at our backs.”

And indeed the corps did not make its appearance at the front—it is true that it was not yet finally formed; it did not wish to interfere in the “home affairs” of the Russians (October and later—the struggle against Bolshevism) and soon assumed completely the position of “a foreign army,” being taken over and supported by the French command.

But neither were the hopes of the Polish nationalists fulfilled. In the midst of the general break-down and fall of the front in the beginning of 1918 and after the irruption of the Germans into Russia, part of the corps was captured and disarmed, part of it dispersed and the remnants of the Polish troops afterwards found a hospitable asylum in the ranks of the Volunteer Army.

Personally, I cannot but say a good word for the 1st Polish Corps, to the units of which, quartered in Bykhov, we owe much in the protection of the lives of General Kornilov and the other Bykhov prisoners, in the memorable days of September to November.

Centrifugal forces were scattering the country and the Army. To class and party intolerance was added the embitterment of national dissensions, partly based on the historically-created relations between the races inhabiting Russia and the Imperial Government, and partly altogether baseless, absurd, fed by causes which had nothing in common with healthy national feeling. Latent or crushed at an earlier date, these dissensions broke out rudely at just that moment, unfortunately, when the general Russian authority was voluntarily and conscientiously taking the path of recognition of the historical rights and the national cultural self-determination of the component elements of the Russian State.