Always with Honor

The Memoirs of General Wrangel

Pyotr Wrangel, Sophie Goulston

• Publisher: Mystery Grove Publishing Company
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781087933412
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Geschichte
• Subtopic: Erster Weltkrieg

Russia, 1917. As World War I drags on, political turmoil slowly paralyzes the Empire. The Czar abdicates. His replacements are ineffectual and incompetent. Violence sweeps the country. One by one, institutions collapse under the weight of chaos and terror. The Bolsheviks, a small group of communist radicals initially supported by German intelligence, launch a revolution that sends the country into a tailspin. The nation is plunged into a terrible civil war which by its end will leave over 10 million Russians dead, with millions more scattered across the globe.

Leading the anti-communist "White" forces against the new "Red" army to the end was Pyotr Wrangel. Wrangel, a career cavalry officer who fought with distinction in the Russo-Japanese War and World War i, found himself at the center of various intrigues in the early stages of the Russian Revolution. After narrowly escaping death at the hands of a Bolshevik execution squad, Wrangel joined the Volunteer Army of General Denikin. Although Wrangel accomplished the impossible repeatedly, leading his tiny cavalry force to victory over communist units many times its size, he was unable to persuade Denikin to abandon an ill-planned assault on Moscow. After that offensive failed, the Volunteer Army collapsed.

Widely recognized for his tactical brilliance and unimpeachable character, Wrangel accepted the burden of command over the last remnant of anti-communist forces. Under his leadership the outnumbered and out-gunned White Army launched a devastating counterattack, retaking Crimea and the surrounding area from the Reds. There, he and his remaining men staged a heroic defense while attempting to obtain international support. After Russia was abandoned by its former allies and his position became untenable, Wrangel personally directed the evacuation of his Army and thousands of civilian refugees.

Wrangel published his memoirs in 1928, shortly before his death. Although the book was translated into English in 1929, it eventually fell out-of-print. For more than 60 years, no new copies were made. The few remaining used editions became unaffordable for the average reader. Mystery Grove Publishing Company is proud to make the memoirs of one of the greatest champions in the fight for civilization available to the public for the first time in ebook form.

CHAPTER I

THE REVOLUTION AND THE COLLAPSE OF THE ARMY

I - ON THE VERGE

Towards the winter of 1916 the bloody struggles which had been waged throughout the summer and autumn drew to a close. We consolidated our position, filled in the gaps in our effective forces, and reorganized generally.

The experience gained from two years of warfare had not been acquired in vain. We had learnt a great deal, and the shortcomings for which we had paid so dearly were now discounted. A number of generals who had not kept pace with modern needs had had to give up their commands, and life had brought other more capable men to the fore. But nepotism, which permeated all spheres of Russian life, still brought unworthy men into important positions too often. Convention, routine, and fear of disregarding the custom of promotion by seniority still held sway, especially amongst the higher military staff.

After two years of warfare, the Army was not what it had been. The majority of the original officers and men, especially in the infantry, had been killed or put out of action.

The new officers, hastily trained, and lacking military education and esprit de corps, could not make satisfactory instructors for the men. They knew how to die bravely for the honor of their country and their flag, like all the staff-officers, but they felt that they had been uprooted from their normal, and anything but military, work and had neither the mentality nor the spirit of the true soldier. They found difficulty in enduring the dangers, fatigue, and privations of life at the front, and war to them meant nothing but suffering. It was impossible for them to inspire the troops and put fresh heart into their men.

Neither were the troops what they had been. The original soldiers, inured to fatigue and privation, and brave in battle, were better than ever; but there were few of them left. The new contingents were by no means satisfactory. The reserve forces were primarily fathers of families who had been dragged away from then villages, and were warriors only in spite of themselves. For they had forgotten that once upon a time they had been soldiers, they hated war, and thought only of returning to their homes as soon as possible.

Before they were sent to the front these men were passed through the cadres and given some preliminary training, but it was very inadequate. There were not enough cadres, and the barracks allotted to them were too small to house all the men. Furthermore, the instructors, both commissioned and noncommissioned officers, were not up to then work. They were either disabled and worn out from active service, or else very young officers who themselves had much to learn.

The infantry, whose losses were heaviest of any, suffered most from this arrangement. But nevertheless, in spite of everything, the Army was still strong and impressive. The morale of the troops was excellent, and the discipline perfect. I never once saw or even heard of the slightest expression of disaffection or disorder; indeed, before this could happen, the very idea of authority had to disappear, and the generals themselves had to set the example of breaking the bonds of loyalty which existed between officers and men.

It is obvious that after two years of warfare the moral standards of the army could not but have slackened, and respect for the law diminished. Requisitioning, an inevitable consequence of any war, had lessened the soldiers’ regard for other people's property. Base instincts were aroused, but I repeat that they would not have been set in motion but for an external shock.

A great deal of work was being done, especially in the wake of the Army, behind-the-lines, by a numerous class of people which was on the increase during these last months. The individuals of this class had been mobilized and were in perfect health, but they had an unconquerable aversion from the endless whining of bullets and the bursting of shells; and so, secure in the protection and support of a quieter atmosphere, they sat on all kinds of committees and occupied themselves with the organization of reading-rooms and canteens for the trenches.

These men, dressed in absurd uniforms, all spurted and laced, took great pains with the main body of the Army, especially the ensigns, for the staff and soldiers of the technical units were recruited from amongst the intelligentzia.

Most of the Army, rank and file as well as officers, took no part at all in politics: they had other things to do, and, besides, they lacked newspapers and information. One party amongst the officers echoed the gossip of the neighboring General Staff. They believed that General Headquarters were au courant with events in the country, and prophesied that the disorder in the interior would finally react on the Army and so lead to its defeat.

We continually told one another that things would not come to this pass in Petersburg.

Those of us who loved our country and the Army were terribly anxious at the continual changes in the Ministry, the conflicts between the Government and the Duma, the ever-increasing number of petitions and appeals addressed to the Czar by many influential organizations, each one demanding popular control, and, above all, by the alarming rumors concerning certain persons in the Czar's entourage.

The patriots amongst the High Command suffered deeply as they watched the Czar making fatal mistakes whilst the danger grew and came ever nearer; they held mistaken views, but they believed in them sincerely; they contemplated the possibility of a revolution from within the Palace to be effected by means of a bloodless coup d’état. General Krymov, my immediate superior, was one of those who was strongly in favor of this plan. He was commander of a division of Oussourian Cossacks in which I commanded a regiment of Nerchinsk Cossacks.

During the long discussions we had on many an evening he tried again and again to prove to me that things could not go on as they were, that we must prevent a catastrophe, and that we ought to find men who, without a day's delay, would remove the Czar by means of a revolution from within the Palace.

There were other commanders who also agreed that things could not go on as they were, but they realized how inopportune a change in time of war would be, and saw that it would inevitably entail the collapse of the Army and the ruin of the country.

Others, again, desired a revolution for purely personal reasons, hoping to find in it scope for their ambitions, or to profit from it and settle their accounts with such of the commanders as they hated.

I am firmly convinced that if, from the beginning of the revolutionary movement, Headquarters and the generals at the front had forgotten their personal interests and acted unanimously and resolutely, the Army would not have collapsed nor the interior fallen prey to anarchy, or at least that things would have been checked in time.

The Czarevitch's regiment of Nerchinsk Cossacks, which I commanded during the winter of 1916, was part of a division of Oussourian Cossacks. This division, recruited from Eastern Siberia, enjoyed a high reputation in the Army. It had covered itself with glory many times, and recently my regiment had been signally rewarded for distinguished conduct in Galicia. His Majesty had appointed his son honorary commander of the regiment, which was henceforth known as the Czarevitch's Own.

During the Civil War the majority of the officers of the Oussourian division, and of the Nerchinsk regiment in particular, were in Admiral Koltchak's army, and met again under the command of Ataman Semenov and General Ungern. At the time of which I am speaking, these two generals, who have since played such a prominent part in the Civil War, were captains of the fifth and sixth squadrons of the Nerchinsk regiment.

Semenov was a Transbaikalian Cossack—dark and thickset, and of the rather alert Mongolian type. His intelligence was of a specifically Cossack caliber, and he was an exemplary soldier, especially courageous when under the eye of his superior. He knew how to make himself popular with Cossacks and officers alike, but he had his weaknesses—a love of intrigue and indifference to the means by which he achieved his ends. Though capable and ingenious, he had received no education, and his outlook was narrow. I have never been able to understand how he came to play a leading role.

Captain Baron Ungern Stenberg, or simply "the Baron," as his troops called him, was more complex and interesting. He was of the type that is invaluable in wartime and impossible in times of peace.

At the beginning of the Russo-Japanese War, though still almost a child, he had left school and joined up as a volunteer in an infantry regiment. He was wounded many times and was decorated. After the war he went back to Russia, where his relatives made him enter a military school. He passed his officers' examinations only with great difficulty.

Longing for adventure and feeling out of his element in the regular Army, he set out for Siberia and joined a Cossack regiment. He did not remain with it long. One night, in a fit of drunken anger, he picked a petty quarrel with one of his comrades and struck him. The man dealt him a sword-blow on his head, and he felt the effects of this wound for the rest of his life—it undoubtedly upset his mental balance.

He returned to Russia and decided to travel from Vladivostok to Kharbin on horseback. He left his regiment, swung himself into the saddle, whistled to his dog, and set off with a fowling-piece slung over his shoulder. Hunting for his food and sleeping in the open air, he took a whole year to reach Kharbin. There he learnt that war had just broken out between the Chinese and the Mongols. He remounted his horse, pushed on to Mongolia, and offered his services; and there he was, commander of the whole cavalry force of Mongolia!

At the outbreak of the World War he came back to Russia and joined up as sub-lieutenant in the Nerchinsk regiment; from the first he won distinction by his courageous exploits. He was wounded many times, and decorated with the St. George's Cross (the highest honor a soldier can win), and by the end of the year he was a captain and in command of the squadron. He was of medium height, fair and puny-looking, with a long reddish moustache, but he possessed an iron constitution and ruthless energy. War was his natural element.

He was not an officer in the ordinary sense: he knew nothing of system, turned up his nose at discipline, and was ignorant of the rudiments of decency and decorum. He was not an officer, but a hero out of one of Mayne Reid's novels. He was dirty and dressed untidily, slept on the floor with his Cossacks, and messed with them. When he was promoted to a civilized environment his lack of all outward refinement made him conspicuous. I tried in vain to awaken his conscience to the need for adopting at least the external appearance of an officer. He was a man of queer contrasts. He had an original, penetrating mind, but at the same time an astonishing lack of culture, an extremely narrow outlook, the shyness of the savage, a foolish swagger, and an unbridled temper. He was very extravagant, though his means were exceptionally small.

In accordance with an old custom, we had to offer the new honorary commander a horse and the uniform of the regiment which was to bear his name. Consequently I left for the capital at the head of a deputation from the regiment, taking with me a small Maudjourian horse just big enough for the young Czarevitch.

Scarcely two months before this I had been in Petersburg recovering from a wound I had got it in the famous charge which had earned us the signal honor which was the cause of my returning to Petersburg today.

Confusion was rife in all circles, there seemed to be a presentiment abroad of the nearness of the terrible events which destiny was preparing for Russia. In the Duma and the Imperial Council and in different political groups, a pretense of stern authority was reduced to a matter of public-speaking-matches and political debates; while in artisan circles and urban associations there was subterranean propaganda at work, fed no doubt by Germans. Yet, at the same time, the majority of the population remained absorbed in its little daily cares, the queues lined up outside the shops, the theatres and cinemas were full, and the same old trivial conversations were to be overheard in the crowd.

Court circles appeared to be paying no heed to the approaching storm. High society and the upper bureaucracy remained absorbed in their usual "weighty" questions, such as the appointment of someone to some post, or the opinions held by the Grand Duke's or the Empress’s party.

Social life followed its usual course, and it seemed as if these people were merely to be the spectators and not the victims of the drama to come.

Some days after my arrival, I entered the service of the Czar as his aide-de-camp. I have had many opportunities of meeting the Czar and chatting with him. He produced an impression of extraordinary simplicity and unusual kindliness on everyone who met him—the result of the outstanding traits of his character, his perfect education, and his complete self-mastery. He had an alert mind, was skilled in the art of innuendo, and possessed an amazing memory. He remembered not only events but names and dates. One day he spoke to me of the battles in which my regiment had taken part, although it was a long time ago and we had done nothing noteworthy, he even mentioned the villages in which the regiments of our division had been quartered.

I began my service as aide-de-camp to the Czar one Saturday, relieving Duke Nicholas of Leuchtenberg. That day dinner was served in the Empress's apartments. There were only the Imperial Family and myself at table, their Majesties kept me part of the evening for a chat. The Czar was merry and vivacious, the Grand Duchesses and the Czarevitch laughed together and exchanged badinage; but I was struck by the expression of suffering on the Empress's face. She had grown much thinner in the two months since I had last seen her, and I particularly noticed the expression in her eyes, it was sad, I might say absent-minded. She was especially interested in the organization of medical relief in the Army, and also asked me detailed questions about the new type of gas-mask.

The next day being Sunday, I accompanied their Majesties to church. The little temple, built in the old Russian Style, was packed. Watching the Imperial couple at prayer, I involuntarily compared the Czar's expression of pious contemplation with the Empress's look of sorrowful ecstasy.

Some days later I presented the deputation from my regiment to His Majesty. I little dreamt that this was the last time I was to see the Czar.

II - ON THE RUMANIAN FRONT

That same evening I received a telegram from General Krymov. Our division was to leave for Rumania, so I was to rejoin my regiment immediately, taking back with me all the officers and men on leave in Petersburg. We left the next day.

As far as the Rumanian frontier, the trains were running much as usual, but across the frontier things were very different. The Rumanian troops were retreating, and the line was blocked by trains full of refugees, wounded, and munitions. I saw for the first time what I saw daily after this, passengers sitting on the roofs of the carriages, on the buffers, and even on the engines.

At a branch line not far from the terminus our two carriages were hooked on to an express. So that we might have more chance of keeping warm, I had with great difficulty extracted a promise that we should be put on at the front of the train. I do not know how it happened, but they hooked us on at the back after all. This saved our lives. Dashing along at full speed, our train crashed into a train in front of us, and the first fourteen carriages were wrecked, there were several hundred killed and injured.

We found our division on the march, making for the line of the Sereth, from where we were to make for Galatz, where great masses of cavalry were to be concentrated. Then came a counter-order, and we retraced our steps through driving rain, soaked to the skin.

During the march an orderly came to inform me that General Krymov, who was marching at the head of our column, wanted me. I found him with our General Staff near a wood-house, busily reading a letter which had just come. Whilst I was still some way off he called out to me: "Great news! At last they've killed that scoundrel Rasputin!"

The newspapers announced the bare fact, letters from the capital gave the details. Of the three assassins, I knew two intimately: the Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovitch and Prince Youssoupoff. What had been their motive? Why, having killed a man whom they regarded as a menace to the country, had they not admitted their action before everyone? Why had they not relied on justice and public opinion instead of trying to hide all trace of the murder by burying the body under the ice? We thought over the news...