Particular difficulties of the strategic situation—Defects in organization and personnel—Absence of a military spirit in the army, and lack of determination in carrying operations to a finish—Breakdown of our organization under the strain of active service.

It is the duty of every Headquarter Staff to work out all possibilities, and, regardless of existing international relations, to provide for war in every probable quarter. Accordingly, our general line of operation in case of war with Japan had been duly drawn up in conjunction with the staffs of the Pri-Amur and Kuan-tung districts, and had been approved. The following is an extract from the paper dealing with the subject:

The two years succeeding the date on which this paper was written saw great alterations in the strength, dispositions, and readiness of our military and naval forces in the Far East. There was also considerable change in the political conditions in Manchuria and in Northern Korea in consequence of the active policy which we had begun to assume. It was therefore found necessary in 1903 to consider a revision of the above scheme in accordance with these altered conditions. During those two years our strength in the Far East had grown by the increase in our land forces and fleet, and the improved efficiency of the railways. We have already seen what was done to improve the latter. It will suffice to say here that, instead of the twenty waggons available over the whole Chinese line in 1901, the War Department in 1903 received seventy-five in the twenty-four hours, and hoped, on the strength of promises made, to have five through military trains by the beginning of 1904. The fleet, which in 1901 was considered inferior to the Japanese, was, at the end of 1903, stated, on the authority of the Viceroy, Admiral Alexeieff, to be so strong that any possibility of its defeat by the Japanese was inadmissible. But in those same two years Japan had not been idle, and had been unceasingly increasing her naval and military forces. In consequence of this the relative local strengths of the two nations were still much the same in 1903 as they had been in 1901, and it was thought prudent to adhere to the same general plan of operations as had been drawn up and approved two years previously. To give an official opinion of that time, I quote an extract from a memorandum I submitted to the Tsar on August 6, 1903:

In a memorandum by the Chief of the Headquarter Staff, submitted to me on February 12, 1904—i.e., a few days after the enemy had attacked our fleet at Port Arthur—General Sakharoff described the Japanese intentions as follows:

Our hopes as to the promised improvement of the railway were unfortunately not realized, while our fleet, damaged by the enemy’s onslaught before the declaration of war, was not only weaker than the enemy’s, but failed even to perform the modest task expected of it in 1901. Consequently the concentration of our troops was a far slower business than we thought it would be, while the Japanese, having gained command of the sea, threw the whole of their army on to the continent. Thus, gaining the initiative on land as well as on the sea, and fired as they were with immense patriotism, the enemy commenced the war superior to us morally as well as materially. However, though the task before us was one of extreme difficulty, our resources were immensely superior to the enemy’s, and the moment when we should become completely ready for the struggle was only postponed. Notwithstanding the unfavourable conditions under which we started, after fifteen months’ fighting we were holding the Hsi-ping-kai positions, and, although we had not actually assumed the offensive, we had by no means retired as far as Harbin, which had been accepted as a possibility in the original scheme. If we had only possessed the determination necessary to carry this scheme right through, we ought not to have ended the war until we had utterly defeated the enemy. Therefore, whatever we did accomplish can only be looked upon as preparatory to the decisive struggle. One of the assumptions of our original scheme of operations was that, if a strong Japanese force invaded Southern Manchuria, we should not be able, in the first period of the war, to hold it. In the event the whole Japanese army invaded that area, but the opposition shown by our troops at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho, and at Mukden, was so effectual that, though the enemy gained possession of the greater portion of Southern Manchuria, they did not reassume the offensive against us for six months. The difficulties which the Japanese surmounted in advancing from Ta-shih-chiao to Tieh-ling cannot be compared to those which would have faced them, in the three defensive lines which we had constructed on the way to Harbin,[9] had they attempted to drive us to that place. I reiterate what I have so often said in the preceding chapters: though the war was brought to an end, the army was not beaten. Of the great force which lay ready on the Hsi-ping-kai position in August, 1905, one-half had never been under fire. Further on I will explain how it was that we never acquired the material and moral superiority necessary to defeat the enemy during the fifteen months that the war did last.

In the diary I kept when in Japan[10] I drew a diagram, with explanatory notes, to illustrate the Japanese question and show the possibility of our being able to defend our interests in Manchuria and Korea by force. I reproduce the diagram[11] and the notes in extenso:

We were glued to the railway, and could not move away without risk of being left without supplies. Our field artillery and heavy four-wheeled transport carts were unable to travel over most of the hill roads. The summer rains made the movements of the army, with its heavy baggage trains and parks, extremely difficult; teams of twenty horses were harnessed to guns, and even empty carts had to be man-handled.

But of all our difficulties, the complete command of the sea obtained by the Japanese right at the beginning of the war caused the greatest. With their three armies they cut off Port Arthur, and began an advance from an enveloping base against our army, which was still tied to a railway-line. Our southward advance for the relief of Port Arthur was threatened by Kuroki’s army based on Korea. Any movement against him was out of the question, especially for those corps which had arrived from Russia, as they were quite unused to hilly country. Our communications through Manchuria were only weakly defended, and might be cut at any moment by the Chinese, while those further west were liable to interruption (bridges destroyed, strikes, frost, etc.). The feeding of the army depended on local resources, which a hostile population could easily conceal, carry away, or even destroy; and as the amount of supplies obtained from Russia was extremely small and uncertain, the army might very easily have been starved. The chance actions at the Ya-lu and Te-li-ssu, in which our most reliable troops were worsted, still further improved the enemy’s moral, and lowered ours.

With the absence of a proper military spirit among our troops, and the evil influence of the many seditious manifestoes against the war circulating amongst them; with the unsteadiness shown by many units in the first fights, and with all the other defects above mentioned, a great numerical superiority was necessary—I must speak perfectly plainly—in order to defeat an enemy worked up to a pitch of fanatical excitement. But we did not obtain this superiority until it was too late—when we were waiting on the Hsi-ping-kai position, and negotiations for peace were being carried on at Portsmouth. Up to December we were fighting with what seemed a fairly large force, according to a tally of battalions; but these were greatly under strength, for in the most important early period of the war—from May to October inclusive—we lost very many men, and received but few drafts. In many cases the Japanese battalions were twice as strong as ours. While all our actions were hampered by insufficient information regarding the enemy, the intelligence we received as to what was happening in our rear—in Mongolia and in the Manchurian provinces—was so alarming as to compel us to detach a large force to protect our communications. Again, when the enemy became complete masters of the sea, we had to detail sufficient troops to guard against a landing in the Vladivostok and the Ussuri districts. All these things combined to complicate our position and give the enemy the initiative at the start, and right manfully did their whole nation strive to seize their advantage. Their land communications were safe; their sea communication with their base was quick and sure. We, on the contrary, could only put in the field a fraction of our land forces, and, till we could concentrate sufficient men for an offensive, were tied down to a definite course of action. We had—

1. To make certain of and protect the concentration of the reinforcements which were arriving, so as not to allow them to be destroyed as they came up.

2. To take steps to relieve Port Arthur.

3. To maintain order in our rear, and to guard the railway.

4. To feed the army—mainly on local supplies.

5. To guard the Ussuri district.

Had the Japanese got possession of our communications, a catastrophe unprecedented in military history might have resulted. Without any victory in the field, the mere destruction of the railway in our rear, combined with the cutting off of local resources, would have threatened us with starvation—and disaster. Such were the unfavourable conditions under which we fought for fifteen months, and our army was not only not completely defeated, but grew in strength, while our communication with Russia gradually became better secured and more efficient. We had always recognized the possibility of being driven back to Harbin and beyond; but this never happened, and we held on to Hsi-ping-kai. The situation could only have been improved in one way—by a rapid concentration of sufficient troops for, and an assumption of, an offensive all along the line. While these troops were collecting, each fight—quite independent of its actual result—would have really helped us if it had at all weakened the enemy. But our departure from our accepted plan of operations began at the commencement of the war, when, instead of fighting a rearguard action, General Zasulitch got seriously engaged against the whole of Kuroki’s army at the Ya-lu, and was defeated.

In May, when the 3rd Siberian Division[12] had alone arrived at Liao-yang (besides the troops of the Pri-Amur Military District), the Viceroy, fearing for the fate of Port Arthur, instructed me to assume the offensive towards the Ya-lu against Kuroki’s army, or southwards for the relief of the fortress of Port Arthur. But the inadequate force with which General Shtakelberg pushed forward, owing to ignorance of the fact that the Japanese were in superior strength, got drawn into a serious engagement at Te-li-ssu, and was defeated. With the arrival of all the units of the 4th Siberian Corps and one division of the 10th Army Corps, it seemed possible to contain Kuroki’s army, to concentrate fifty to sixty battalions rapidly in the direction of Ta-shih-chiao, and to attempt to hurl back Oku to the south. It seemed as if our army had a splendid chance of operating on interior lines. The enemy was strung along three lines of advance—Dalny, Kai-ping, Ta-shih-chiao (Oku); Ta-ku-shan, Hsiu-yen, Ta-ling, Hai-cheng (Nodzu); Ya-lu, Feng-huang-cheng, Fen-shui-ling, Liao-yang (Kuroki). We occupied the central position—Liao-yang, Hai-cheng, Ta-shih-chiao—with advance guards thrown forward on to the Fen-shui-ling heights. We might have been able, by containing two armies and deceiving the enemy by a demonstration, to strike the third army in force. A blow delivered at Kuroki or Nodzu did not promise success, owing to our lack of training in, and unpreparedness for, hill warfare [we had no mountain artillery, our baggage was heavy, and we were uncertain of receiving supplies, owing to the insufficiency of transport material]. The only other course was to strike at Oku, who was based on the railway, but such an operation was risky, because Kuroki and Nodzu might have driven back our screens and fallen on our communications. On June 26 and 27, when only one brigade of the 31st Division of the 10th Army Corps[13] had arrived at Liao-yang, the Japanese on the eastern front (Kuroki and Nodzu) themselves took the offensive and seized the passes (Fen-shui Ling, Mo-du Ling, Da Ling) on the Fen-shui-ling heights. We opposed them in insufficient strength, and did not even make them disclose their numbers. The troops of the eastern force withdrew towards Tkhavuop, and General Levestam’s force to Hsi-mu-cheng. Our screens were thus situated as follows: on Kuroki’s line of advance, only two marches from Hai-cheng; on Oku’s line of advance at Ta-shih-chiao, four marches from Liao-yang.[14] Our position was critical, particularly if the information we had received as to the Japanese collecting in considerable force to operate against Hai-cheng was confirmed. Still, if we were able to strike a rapid blow at Oku, we might rob the enemy of the initiative, and after forcing back Oku’s army, have fallen on Nodzu. After we had driven back these troops, Kuroki’s position would have been so far forward and so far separated from the other groups that the danger of his breaking through to Liao-yang would have been minimized. But for such decisive operations the first requisite was the concentration of sufficient troops for offensive operations against Oku.

At the end of June we had altogether available against the three Japanese armies 120 battalions, and were inferior to the enemy both in the number of battalions and the number of men. Our position was made worse by an epidemic of dysentery which broke out amongst the troops at Ta-shih-chiao, and swept off a considerable number of men. The Krasnoyarsk Regiment[15] was the greatest sufferer, having as many as 1,500 men down with the disease at the end of the month. But the main thing which delayed any advance on our part was the rain, which made all moves difficult, and some places absolutely impassable for transport. It was even difficult to convey supplies to our various stationary forces over distances of less than a march. In spite of the lack of pack-saddles, wheeled transport had to be given up for pack transport, and not even pack-animals could do more than seven to eleven miles in the twenty-four hours. On the Liao-yang–Lang-tzu-shan road things were still worse, for the bridges over the mountain streams had been carried away, and communication between the eastern force (3rd Siberian Corps, under Count Keller) and Liao-yang was interrupted for some time. Far, therefore, from being ready to advance, the officers commanding the 1st and 4th Siberian Corps found the greatest difficulty in rationing their troops, and on June 29 asked that they might be withdrawn towards the positions near the railway at Ta-shih-chiao, and that the country east of the line might be left to the cavalry, with a few infantry units in support.[16]

General Count Keller was persistent in his demands that communication should be maintained between his force and Liao-yang, but we had neither the material, the means, nor the time to comply with his wishes, which would have meant the laying of a light railway and the strengthening of the road bridges. As I feared that the Japanese might make a fresh forward movement on Hai-cheng, I ordered thirty-nine battalions to concentrate near Hsi-mu-cheng on June 29. The short march from Hai-cheng was accomplished on the 28th with great difficulty through a sea of mud, and on the 29th Hsi-mu-cheng was temporarily cut off by the mountain streams in flood. The feeding of the troops collected there was found to be so difficult that as soon as it was known that the enemy, instead of advancing, had retired towards the Fen-shui Ling (Pass), certain units were ordered to return to the railway. Taking advantage, on July 18, of the screen formed by a portion of the 17th Army Corps, we attempted to advance against part of Kuroki’s army in the hope of forcing our way forward and gaining a partial success. For this Count Keller had under his command forty-three battalions, but the attempt failed. He stopped the action before any large number of our troops had become engaged. On the 29th Oku’s army took the offensive; we had to evacuate Ta-shih-chiao and Newchuang after a feeble resistance, and allowed Oku and Nodzu to join hands. When on July 23 I inspected  the units of the 10th Army Corps, who were holding the position near Hu-chia-tzu, I found out how absolutely incapable of operating in hilly country the troops newly arrived from Russia were. Before sending them forward, it was necessary to train them in hill fighting, and to provide them with pack transport. On July 31 all three Japanese armies advanced, and we concentrated after a series of battles round Liao-yang. Here, in spite of our resistance, the three armies were able to join hands. Their attacks on the left bank of the Tai-tzu Ho were repulsed, but owing to the unfortunate nature of our operations on the right bank, the conditions became so unfavourable to us that I was obliged to order a retirement to Mukden. The withdrawal was conducted without the loss of a single gun or transport cart, while the enemy lost in men more heavily than we did. In the detailed accounts I have given in the first three volumes of the operations at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho and at Mukden, our difficulties and the causes of our defeats are explained. The course of events showed that our original scheme of operations was quite a correct forecast, for in it the probable necessity of retiring towards Harbin had been foreseen. Indeed, matters at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho, and especially at Mukden, might have been very much worse for us than they were, and might have necessitated our retirement on Harbin early in October, 1904, when, as a matter of fact, we remained in Southern Manchuria.

Clausewitz has truly laid down that an army should be inseparably connected with its base, but our base was Russia, more than 5,000 miles away. The way that this one difficulty alone was overcome will perhaps be eventually appreciated at its true worth. The very complicated attendant circumstances demanded great and patient efforts on the part of the whole nation in order to turn them to our advantage. Our reverses were explicable, and even in our defeat we exhausted our enemy, while ourselves increasing in strength. It was inevitable that a different complexion would have been put on the face of things as soon as circumstances became more favourable to us.

Difficulties in Organization.

The war showed that our army organization gave us too small a percentage of actual combatants as compared with the total numbers whom we rationed. By this I mean that, in spite of the immense numbers that we maintained in the face of great difficulties, we were unable to put enough men into action to win. Our establishments of all arms, of parks, hospitals, transport corps, field bakeries, staffs, and all offices and institutions, include a large percentage of non-combatants, which was swollen in the last war by the absence of any organized line of communication troops, the necessity of carrying out a large amount of railway construction, and of appointing officers and men to newly formed supply and transport units. Even so the number of non-combatants laid down in the establishments for each unit was not sufficient to perform the duties that fell to them, and it became necessary, for reasons which will be mentioned later, to detail combatants for domestic duties. As but few non-combatants were wounded in action, the proportion of them to the combatant element became still greater after every big fight. It was usual, when a battle was imminent, to order back to their units all men who were on extra-regimental duties, but in spite of all the steps taken, the fighting number was never more than 75 per cent. of the number of men on the strength. In the beginning of April, 1905, when we were preparing the theatre of war up to the River Sungari, the combatant element of the 1st Manchurian Army actually fell to 58 per cent. of the strength. As in previous wars, the infantry, of course, did most of the fighting, and also carried out by far the greater number of fatigues and extra duties. As they also lost more men in action, their fighting strength was proportionately more reduced than that of the other arms.[17] In April, 1905, the percentage of rifles in the 1st Manchurian Army to the total number of men that had to be rationed was 51·9 per cent. When the convalescents returned to the ranks, its strength amounted by the beginning of December to 192,000 men, of whom 105,879 carried rifles; but we could only put a much smaller number in action owing to various duties, fatigues, etc. In August, 1905, the number of rifles was 58·9 per cent. of the total of men rationed.

To obviate this state of affairs, and to insure that companies should be as strong as possible in action, I gave orders on June 9, 1905 [when I was commanding the 1st Manchurian Army], that out of each of the four battalion regiments, not more than 369 combatants should be detailed for extra duties. This figure included 128 stretcher-bearers, 35 bandsmen, and 48 men for baggage guards. In addition to this, a large number of men were required for road and bridge work on the communications, for guards for the different stores, for working parties to assist the supply and medical services, for policing villages, for duty with the improvised transport units, etc. True, this had its compensations, for we were able thus to get rid of the 2nd Category reservists from the ranks; but we felt the loss in the number of rifles we could place in the firing-line. Of course, there were, in addition, the sick, the wounded, and the convalescents with units and in hospital. In this way the total of all ranks classed as combatants but absent from the firing-line, or not doing combatant work, amounted on the average to 800 men out of every four-battalion regiment, or about one-quarter of its strength. To carry on the campaign without properly organized units on the communications, without sufficient camp guards, without making roads and bridges, without allowing men for transport and baggage duties, was impossible. Notwithstanding the good payment we offered, the native population did not come forward to work freely, especially when fighting was imminent. A certain number were employed on transport, but they were very unreliable, and bolted at the first alarm, often taking their horses and carts with them. During the battle of Mukden, for instance, the whole of the hired transport of the 1st Army, consisting of 400 carts, entirely disappeared. Our attempts to obtain Russian hired labour were a failure, though the rates of pay offered were liberal enough.

The extent to which transport duties were responsible for weakening the fighting strength of the army can be seen from the fact that, during the fifteen months of war, 122 transport units were formed, and 8,656 carts, 51,000 horses, and 20,000 pack-animals purchased. For duty with these, 328 officers, 22,000 men, 1,700 hired civilians (Russians), and 9,850 Chinamen were employed. These 122 units were improvised under adverse conditions and from small cadres, and, as they had to be raised in a hurry, there was nothing for it but to appoint to them men and officers from the army.

The strength of units also decreased most marvellously in action. This was partly due to losses, but often also due to the habit of men leaving the firing-line to carry wounded to the rear. This was sometimes done with permission, sometimes without. Very often the men who retired did not have this excuse.

I have pointed out (in Chapter VII.) that the army did not receive its drafts in time, and that we had to fight below strength; this shortage was still further increased for the following reasons: The war establishment of a company was 220 rifles; but from this number had to be deducted the shortage with which units arrived at the front,[18] the sick, and those detailed for camp and other duties—a procedure which, though unprovided for by Regulations, was permitted by officers in command. Accordingly companies often went into the very first fight at a strength of only 160 to 170 rifles. For a long time the personal supervision exercised by commanding officers to insure that units took the field as strong as possible was very slack. It seemed, on the contrary, as if their efforts tended all the other way, for they left men behind whenever they possibly could, particularly those who were most necessary—i.e., those on whom depended the payment and regular rationing of the men. Thus, with the exception of the regimental adjutant, the staff of a regiment rarely went into action; while of the men who are classed as combatants, the company clerks, armourer-sergeant, cooks, officers’ servants, the butcher, the cattle guards and the officers’ grooms, were always left behind. The formation of a force of mounted scouts took away a certain number of men, and stretcher-bearers and bandsmen of course did not fight. Finally, owing to the peculiar nature of the country, donkeys for carrying water were provided for each company, and these required men to look after them, and one or two entire companies from each regiment had to be detached as baggage guard owing to the insecurity of our communications. Commanding officers thought it necessary to leave behind so many men for the above purposes that the orders given for them to accompany the firing-line were either quite neglected, or only half carried out. It was soon found that eight bearers per company were far too few for carrying wounded, and men from the ranks were allowed to help their wounded comrades to the rear. From this cause companies often literally melted away during a fight. There were many instances where unwounded men went to the rear under pretext of carrying away the wounded, at the rate of six, eight, or ten sound soldiers to one wounded! The return of these willing helpers to the front was not so prompt as it might have been, and was difficult to control. The result was that a company hotly engaged usually only had 100 or less rifles after a few hours’ fighting, although its losses might have been inconsiderable.

Meanwhile, as we only asked for drafts strong enough to bring companies up to the established war strength, without taking into account the above extraordinary leakage, the drafts we received did not bring companies up to their proper strength in action.

The reason why the lines of communication in the field[19] took so large a number away from our fighting-line was that we had no proper communication units, and the large working parties necessary for the light railway, road and bridge work had to be drawn from the fighting troops. It was entirely owing to the care with which the commanding officers on the line of communications—especially those in the engineers—had been selected that we were able to fight, and at the same time to make roads of some hundreds of miles’ length for intercommunication between corps. For instance, at the end of 1904 and the beginning of 1905, when the 1st Army was south of the Hun Ho, out of 180,000 men, 7,000 were on the line of communications. At the beginning of July, 1905, when the strength of the 1st Army had gone up to 250,000, and the communications stretched back a length of 150 miles to the River Sungari, there were 10,000 men employed on them—i.e., 4 per cent. of the army’s strength. The length of the road made on the Hsi-ping-kai positions by the 1st Army alone amounted to 1,000 miles, with bridges of more than 20 feet breadth and 50 feet span, and nearly 40 miles of embankment. Though the greater part of this was done by hired Chinese labour, even in this comparatively quiet period the troops of the 1st Army were on “works” for a period of 30,000 working “man days.”[20]

The supply service, also, as has been mentioned, absorbed a large number of men. The field commissariat were unable, at the beginning of the campaign, to work the bakeries owing to the lack of men. All the bakeries, therefore, were taken over by the troops, who had to build the ovens, buy flour, and bake the bread themselves. Thus the eight field bakeries (of which four were in Liao-yang) which arrived in Harbin and Liao-yang without transport or men had at first to be taken over by the troops. But from May, 1904, onwards the Governor-General insisted on most of the work being handed back to the Commissariat Department. The energy of General Gubur, the Field Intendant of the army, in obtaining supplies locally rescued it from the difficult position in which it was beginning to find itself owing to the constantly increasing number of mouths and to the inadequate number of supply trains. Assisted by Generals Bachinski and Andro, General Gubur took full advantage of all the resources of the country. For this, again, officers and men were necessary to guard supply depôts and collect and escort herds of cattle, and were taken from the combatant troops. A large part of the forage and meat the troops obtained for themselves, but this entailed the provision of strong foraging parties, which went far afield and often remained away a considerable time, and of permanent guards to tend the regimental cattle. When the troops of the Pri-Amur district were concentrated in Manchuria, they left a number of men behind as “base details” to look after their buildings and property. Touch was maintained between these base details and the units at the front during the whole war; from them the troops received their warm clothing in winter, and to them it was sent back in the summer of 1905. This all meant the employment of soldiers. Finally, men had to be told off for topographical work, reconnaissance, and as escorts for officers and other persons, etc.

The number for all the above duties taken together, with the wounded and sick present with units, constituted on an average 400 to 500 men per regiment. This, added to the 369 authorized “employed” men above mentioned, brought the total up to 800. Obviously such a loss of numbers must be taken into consideration in appreciating the fighting work of the army.

Other things which contributed to the same result were the immense development of the different staffs and administrations, the auxiliary institutions, such as supply parks and hospitals, the congestion on the roads caused by the masses of baggage which had collected, and the fact that both our wheeled and pack transport carried less than it was supposed to owing to the hilly country and the all-prevailing mud. After heavy fighting our army corps, especially those consisting of three-battalion regiments, amounted to less than 10,000 to 15,000 rifles, and yet the immense organization, military parks, baggage, and transport, etc., for a full corps had still to be guarded. Even the regimental standards, which should have been a source of strength and encouragement in the fight, were in many cases prematurely taken to the rear under a guard of a company or half a company, the troops at the front being weakened by this number at the most important moment of an action. I was obliged to make a ruling that in action the standards should be kept with the regimental reserves, and that steps should be taken that they should be a symbol of victory in the most critical phases of a fight (as used to be the case in former wars), and a source of strength instead of weakness to the units which possessed them.

In September and October, 1905, instead of one Manchurian army, three were formed (the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd); they were all intended for operations in the Mukden area, and were based on the one railway which constituted their common line of communications. The powers of the army commanders were as laid down by regulation. Officers in command of armies were given (Field Service Regulations, 1890) almost all the powers formerly vested in the Commander-in-Chief. As regards fighting, it was laid down that “in conducting military operations the officer commanding an army should be guided by the instructions of the Commander-in-Chief, but should act independently.” This latitude would be very convenient in operating in Europe, where each army would have its own independent line of communications; but in the conditions which existed at Mukden—one common position and one line of communications for all—and with a difference of views existing between the army commanders as regards the conduct of affairs, the arrangement was, to say the least of it, extremely unsuitable. A difference of opinion upon some vital matter might easily arise, when it might be necessary either to order the army commander to carry out an operation which he thought unnecessary, inopportune, or even dangerous, or else to ask for him to be replaced. For instance, a fortnight before we assumed the offensive on January 25, after everything had been settled and all plans drawn up, General Grippenberg suddenly surprised me by his opinion—that the campaign was lost; that we should retire towards Harbin, hold that point and Vladivostok, and thence move with two armies in other directions. In which directions, he was unable to explain. The Commander-in-Chief’s instructions on many essential points, such as the danger of holding non-continuous lines[21] and the necessity for having strong army reserves, were not carried out because the responsibility for holding the defensive positions occupied by the armies rested on the army commanders. Thus my endeavours to send at least twenty-four battalions—if not the whole of the 17th Army Corps—from the 3rd Army into the reserve failed, as the officer commanding that army thought that his position in the centre would not be safe if the regiments of the 17th Corps, which was in advance, were replaced by reserve regiments of the 6th Siberians. As mentioned in the account of the operations of the 14th Infantry Division at Hei-kou-tai, notwithstanding my instructions to conceal our intention of attacking the enemy’s left flank as long as possible, General Grippenberg, for no apparent reason, and without even asking permission, assumed the offensive almost two weeks before the time that I had fixed by moving the 14th Division towards Ssu-fang-tai (on the heights by San-de-pu) on January 13, and by moving the 10th Army Corps into the advanced lines between the right flank of the 3rd Army and the River Hun on the 16th. By this the enemy was informed of our intentions before we began our forward movement, and the front of the 2nd Army was spread over thirteen miles.

With the exception of General Linievitch, our army commanders were unnecessarily sensitive to interference with their powers, and in cases where orders would formerly have been issued to corps commanders it now became necessary to reckon with the personal opinions of army commanders, and to guard against offending their susceptibilities. After the pomp and parade of General Grippenberg’s departure from the army, the relationship between the army commanders and the Commander-in-Chief became still more strained. How jealously they looked after their rights, and how strangely they interpreted their own powers, is illustrated by the following incident: On February 19 I sent for the three army commanders and their chief staff officers, in order to ascertain their views as to the plan of operations which should be undertaken under the unfavourable conditions brought about by the fall of Port Arthur and General Grippenberg’s unsuccessful operations at Hei-kou-tai. The following courses were open to Nogi’s army, no longer required in the Kuan-tung Peninsula: it might join the four armies already in the field against us; it might, together with the divisions formed in Japan and the troops in Korea, form a force of seventy to eighty strong battalions for operations against Vladivostok, or, landing at Possiet Bay, it might march against Kirin and Harbin, so as to outflank our position at Mukden. I had also been continually receiving reports from General Chichagoff to the effect that the enemy had invaded Mongolia, and, aided by numerous bands of Hun-huses, had begun to attack the railway in our rear, which had forced me to weaken the army by detailing an infantry brigade and four Cossack regiments to reinforce the railway guard and safeguard our position. In spite of these reports, Generals Linievitch and Kaulbars expressed the opinion that we ought not to change our plans, and should carry out the orders I had issued on January 25—namely, to fall on the enemy’s left flank. But when my Chief of Staff asked the officer commanding the 2nd Army—who was to commence the operation—how he proposed to employ his cavalry, Kaulbars,[22] looking upon the question as an interference with his authority, became annoyed, and said much that was unnecessary and quite beside the point. As it turned out, the Chief of the Staff had every reason to be anxious as to the employment of this Army, for its work in the battle of Mukden was anything but satisfactory.

The very large powers vested in army commanders in the matter of bestowing distinctions was both unnecessary and harmful. They were authorized to award the fourth class Order of St. George on the recommendations of committees convened by them; they could give the Distinguished Service Cross to private soldiers, and award the Orders of St. Anne, second, third, and fourth classes, and St. Stanislav, second and third classes, with swords and ribbons. As the forces were lying so close together, it was very soon noticed that the distribution of decorations in the different armies varied very much, being in accordance with the personal predispositions of the different commanders. In one army they were so lavishly bestowed as to excite general derision, and their value was much lowered in consequence. By far the worst offender in this respect was one well-known general, who for one and the same engagement [Hei-kou-tai] decorated divers officers with two Orders apiece, while, contrary to regulations, he bestowed the Distinguished Service Cross to fifteen and more men per company and battery. I jotted down in my diary my impressions after inspecting units of the 2nd Army. Amongst other things, I noted that he had awarded thirty Distinguished Service Crosses to a battery, of which only seventy men had been in action and even then scarcely under fire. Indeed, to my astonishment, as they stood on parade almost the whole of the front rank were wearing crosses. The officer in command told me that he had been ashamed to announce these rewards to the men, and to have to try and select certain specific acts for them. I told the men I hoped that they would show themselves worthy of these marks of distinction in the fights to come!

The large independent powers possessed by the army commanders in matters of supply were also superfluous in a case where there was only one railway and one tract of country in which to procure supplies. The only result was that prices were raised all round by the fact that the different armies were bidding against each other. In this respect General Grippenberg’s behaviour was most incomprehensible. As meat was very scarce in December, I advised him to cut down the meat ration from 1 pound to ½ pound. Instead of this, by an order issued on January 3, he increased it to 1½ pounds per man per day. With the conditions that obtained generally on the Sha Ho, and if our army corps had been organized on a broader basis, there would have been no necessity whatever for three separate army commanders with their special powers; but they were appointed. And yet, after the disaster of Mukden, it was the Commander-in-Chief who was generally held responsible for everything.

Defects in Personnel.

As regards the personnel, I will give in full the impressions recorded in my report on the 1st Manchurian Army at a time when the experiences of the war were fresh in my mind; my opinion in the main agrees with those of other senior commanders.

(a) The Command.—No appreciation of the senior commanders—that is to say, of the work done by individual corps, divisional, and brigade commanders—can or, indeed, ought to be made at present. The personal element is too prominent. We must wait till personal feelings have died away, so as to be able to draw impartial conclusions based on authenticated facts, and on facts alone, as to what happened and who was to blame. All the same, it may be said that the most pronounced weak points amongst our senior commanders, especially in the first period of the campaign, were their lack of initiative, their ignorance of the method in which an attack should be conducted, and their want of determination. There was never any co-ordination in the operations of large units, which were really quite remarkable for their absolute disconnection. Indifference as to the position of neighbouring forces was the rule, and a tendency to accept defeat before a fight was really lost was painfully evident. Even our best commanders preferred their neighbour to be told off for the attack, while they themselves remained in support. If a column were retiring under difficulties, any other forces close at hand would withdraw also, instead of coming to its assistance; and there was practically no instance of a bold forward movement. The work of the regimental commanders was certainly better than that of those higher up, but it was impossible not to notice that they did not possess the power of making the most of a situation and finding their way about. A regimental commander detached on special duty could rarely make his arrangements without the assistance of an officer of the General Staff; he could not, as a rule, read a map himself, much less teach those under him how to do so. This was especially the case at the beginning of the war, and had considerable influence on the conduct of operations, as regiments often either arrived late at their rendezvous or went to points where they were not wanted. The lack of eye for country is partly explained by the fact that our officers were quite unused to hills. Though this defect certainly became less marked as time went on, it was still perceptible in the operations round Mukden, and even afterwards.

Though the officers lacked a proper military spirit, they were generally good in other ways, particularly those of the regular army. The best proof of their gallantry is furnished by the number of losses sustained by the 1st Army from November, 1904, to September, 1905, from which it will be seen that their proportion of killed and wounded was considerably higher than that of the men.

The losses in this army for the whole period of the war were somewhat higher:

With the exception of those who had volunteered for the front, the officers of the reserve were not nearly so well qualified as those of the regulars; they were much behind them in tactical training, and did not always perform their duties with the zeal which should be shown on active service. Many ensigns of the reserve turned out unsatisfactory, having accepted this rank purely to escape becoming private soldiers upon mobilization; they had no sympathy with the military profession, and hated soldiering. They were absolutely without training, and some of them had no authority whatever over the men. The ensigns and acting ensigns[23] promoted from the ranks for distinguished service were excellent in every respect. Having been selected from the rank and file, they usually appreciated their rank, and had considerable authority amongst the men; they got on well with the officers, and proved efficient and hard-working assistants to the company commanders. The extent to which the acting ensigns sacrificed themselves to duty is evinced by the fact that of 680 in the 1st Army in February, 192 were killed and wounded in the Mukden battle—i.e., more than 28 per cent. The moral tone of the officers was quite satisfactory; during the whole period of the war only nineteen were dismissed for unbecoming conduct. In reporting on the work done by the officers of the General Staff, the majority of the senior officers in command of troops expressed the opinion that their theoretical training and intelligence stood very high, and that their work was unselfish, but that they were not sufficiently in touch with the troops, and lacked the personal, practical knowledge required to enable them to judge properly how much might be expected of men, and in what way an order would be carried out—a knowledge which is necessary if small errors are to be avoided in the transmission of orders, etc. They recommended that, to give these staff-officers the necessary practical training, they should do most of their service with troops of all three Arms, and only a part of their service on the staff; while, to prevent them being looked upon by the troops as mere clerks, they should be relieved of the mass of clerical work that now falls to the General Staff. As in other bodies of men, so amongst these officers are to be found some specially fitted for field-work, and others, again, who prefer purely staff duties, and in my opinion the two classes should be separated. Generally speaking, the General Staff officers in the 1st Army did everything that was required of them. From November, 1904, to September, 1905, their losses in killed and wounded amounted to 12 per cent. of their strength; if the casualties which occurred before the formation of the 1st Army are taken into account, the percentage works out as much as 25·7. During the whole of the above time only four were sent back to Russia on account of sickness, while the majority of the wounded returned to the front.

As regards the senior commanders, many general officers who had commanded independent units with great success in peace-time were quite unfitted to take command of large units under the stress of war. Few had even had sufficient peace practice in the actual command of divisions and corps, and many were not up-to-date in their knowledge of modern war requirements. The general characteristic displayed by most was their lack of the power of forming a decision and a disinclination to accept responsibility. Some arrived at the front actually holding important commands for which they were—either through ill-health or for other reasons—quite unfitted. From three army corps, composed of veteran regiments which had arrived earlier than others in the theatre of war, there retired, or were sent back, after the first fights, one corps, four divisional, and several brigade commanders. Amongst the reasons which contributed to complicate the conduct of operations were the frequent changes in the Commander-in-Chief, of whom there were three in nineteen months. From the beginning of the war till the end of October, 1904—for eight and a half months—Admiral Alexeieff was in supreme command; from the end of October to the middle of March, 1905—four and a half months—I was in command; from the middle of March till the end of the operations—six months—General Linievitch was in command.

The fact that I only commanded for four and a half months out of nineteen, and that this period was in the middle of operations, was not taken into account by those who last year flooded Russia with pamphlets and newspaper articles, apparently written with the sole object of proving that I, both as Commander-in-Chief and as War Minister, was the person mainly responsible for our misfortunes. In a letter to the Tsar, dated February 21, 1906, from the village of Shuan-chen-pu, I wrote on this point as follows: