The Russian Army and the Japanese War, Vol. II, by General Kuropatkin

The author of the cleverly written article entitled “All about Commanders” writes as follows:

“The absence of initiative, the habit of always relying upon superiors, and only acting when ordered to from above, are characteristics of junior commanders which made the work of those at the head of the army more difficult. The value of the time element in war also was forgotten.”

The modern theorist in strategy, Blume, says: “Even the greatest genius in a supreme commander cannot replace independent action by individual leaders.”

Even during actual operations numerous newspaper articles appeared, well calculated to discredit the officers. They were represented as overbearing, rude, dishonourable drunkards. Indeed, one of the most gifted of our writers—Menshikoff—went very far in this respect, for he wrote of the “blunted sense of duty, intemperance, moral laxity, and inveterate laziness” of a large body of men who never spared their lives and performed their duty almost religiously. In a diatribe against military life by M. Kuprin, called “The Duel,” private soldiers were represented as being treated with the greatest cruelty, and it was implied that it was the custom for our officers to slap and beat their men on company parades. The writer concluded by saying that the time would come when the officers would be caught and beaten in byways, when women would deride them, and soldiers refuse to obey their orders. In the great family of officers—as in other classes—there are, of course, bad specimens, but no generalization can be made from this as to the class as a whole. If some officers were seen drunk on the lines of communications or at Harbin, it is not fair to jump to the conclusion that all officers got drunk. They should be judged after they have been seen in action, in the trenches, and on the line of march, not only, as they often were, by what happened in the rear. But it is much easier to sit in St. Petersburg or Harbin and hurl abuse than it is to watch matters at the front. I have alluded to the large proportion of killed and wounded amongst the officers, which shows that their gallantry has not grown less than it used to be, and they certainly looked after the welfare of the soldier in a way that was unprecedented. The men were fed, clothed, cheered up, and kept in good fettle. The junior officers were zealous, soon found their feet under new and strange conditions, and as they grew accustomed to the local topography, became good map-readers. The most severe critic must acknowledge that the standard of our officers, both staff and regimental, has been much raised since the Russo-Turkish War.

But, according to the opinion of these same observers, the private soldier has, on the contrary, deteriorated during these twenty-seven years, for, though a better man physically, he is morally a worse man than he used to be. As I have remarked, the men with the colours were quite reliable, but many of the reservists—especially the 2nd Category men—required much supervision both in action and out of it, the most difficult material to handle being that from the manufacturing centres and large towns. Soldiers nowadays require more looking after than they did formerly, when but few were literate. Up to the present, thank God, our officers still have a good hold upon the men, based on mutual respect; but great endeavours were made at the beginning of the war to undermine this.

Kirilloff and others have made a dead set against the behaviour of the officers of our General Staff in the late war, but the majority worked most unselfishly, and did good service commanding units or on the staff. A large number distinguished themselves by their professional zeal and gallantry, while some found a glorious death in action. At their head may be mentioned General Kondratenko, the hero of Port Arthur. Among the killed also were the gallant General Count Keller, Staff-Officers Zapolski, Naumenko, Jdanoff, Pekuti, Vasilieff, Mojeiko; and of those who died from wounds were Andreeiff and Yagodkin. Among the wounded were four divisional commanders—Lieutenant-Generals Rennenkampf and Kondratovitch, Major-Generals Laiming and Orloff; also Staff-Officers Markoff, Klembovski, Gutor, Rossiski, Gurko, Inevski, etc. Altogether, about twenty officers of the General Staff were killed and forty wounded. The hostile attitude of the Press towards the officers, the endeavour of divers persons to undermine their authority, the indifference of the intelligent classes in Russia to what was happening in Manchuria, and especially the anti-Government campaign, which was conducted with the object of creating a mutiny among the troops, was hardly calculated to raise the soldiers’ moral, or to encourage them to perform acts of heroism. There was no military spirit in the army.

The rank and file, like the officers, were of two classes: those serving with the colours, and the reservists. The former were in every respect good; they were steady in action, enduring and well trained; but the reservists were on a much lower plane altogether. In the first place, the older men were unable to stand the arduous conditions of field service, coupled with the rigours of the Manchurian climate. They suffered greatly from sunstroke and heart affections when marching among the hills, and during the hot weather. At the battles of Ta-shih-chiao, Hai-cheng, and Liao-yang, these men fell out in such numbers that their units became quite immobile, and absolutely useless for any offensive operations. Moreover, the 2nd Category reservists did not know the rifle, and had forgotten everything they had once learnt when with the colours, and it required real hard work to instruct and train them up to the level of the serving soldiers. I have mentioned their unsteadiness. Units which were almost entirely composed of these men—that is to say, those units which had been formed by expanding the reserve regiments—were very unsatisfactory: it was almost impossible to get them into action. The regiments of the 4th Siberian Corps, which did so splendidly at Ta-shih-chiao, Hai-cheng, and Liao-yang, were an exception; they were composed entirely of Siberian reservists, who, though surly fellows and poor marchers, were men of character and very steady in action. The drafts composed of young soldiers were magnificent. Most of them had only just done their recruits’ course, were single men, and possessed both staying power and activity, and, being regular soldiers, were accustomed to field-service conditions. Unfortunately, it was only after the battle of Mukden that these drafts began to arrive. But these young soldiers who did so well in small actions would have done still better in a decisive engagement.

The general feeling of discontent which already prevailed in all classes of our population made the war so hateful that it aroused no patriotism whatever. Many good officers hastened to offer their services—which was only natural—though all ranks of society remained indifferent. A few hundreds of the common people volunteered, but no eagerness to enter the army was shown by the sons of our high dignitaries, of our merchants, or of our scientific men. Out of the tens of thousands of students who were then living in idleness,[24] many of them at the expense of the Empire, only a handful volunteered,[25] while at that very time, in Japan, sons of the most distinguished citizens—even boys fourteen and fifteen years of age—were striving for places in the ranks. Japanese mothers, as I have already said, killed themselves through shame when their sons were found to be physically unfit for military service. The indifference of Russia to the bloody struggle which her sons were carrying on—for little-understood objects, and in a foreign land—could not fail to discourage even the best soldiers. Men are not inspired to deeds of heroism by such an attitude towards them on the part of their country. But Russia was not merely indifferent. Leaders of the revolutionary party strove, with extraordinary energy, to multiply our chances of failure, hoping thus to facilitate the attainment of their own unworthy ends. There appeared a whole literature of clandestine publications, intended to lessen the confidence of officers in their superiors, to shake the trust of soldiers in their officers, and to undermine the faith of the whole army in the Government. In an “Address to the Officers of the Russian Army,” published and widely circulated by the Social Revolutionists, the main idea was expressed as follows:

“The worst and most dangerous enemy of the Russian people—in fact, its only enemy—is the present Government. It is this Government that is carrying on the war with Japan, and you are fighting under its banners in an unjust cause. Every victory that you win threatens Russia with the calamity involved in the maintenance of what the Government calls ‘order,’ and every defeat that you suffer brings nearer the hour of deliverance. Is it surprising, therefore, that Russians rejoice when your adversary is victorious?”

But persons who had nothing in common with the Social Revolutionary party, and who sincerely loved their country, aided Russia’s enemies by expressing the opinion, in the Press, that the war was irrational, and by criticizing the mistakes of the Government that had failed to prevent it. In a brochure entitled “Thoughts Suggested by Recent Military Operations,” M. Gorbatoff referred to such persons as follows:

“But it is a still more grievous fact that while our heroic soldiers are carrying on a life-and-death struggle, these so-called friends of the people whisper to them: ‘Gentlemen, you are heroes, but you are facing death without reason. You will die to pay for Russia’s mistaken policy, and not to defend Russia’s vital interests.’ What can be more terrible than the part played by these so-called friends of the people when they undermine in this way the intellectual faith of heroic men who are going to their death? One can easily imagine the state of mind of an officer or soldier who goes into battle after reading, in newspapers or magazines, articles referring in this way to the folly and uselessness of the war. It is from these self-styled friends that the revolutionary party gets support in its effort to break down the discipline of our troops.”

Reservists, when called out, were furnished by the anti-Government party with proclamations intended to prejudice them against their officers, and similar proclamations were sent to the army in Manchuria. Troops in the field received letters apprising them of popular disorders in Russia, and men sick in hospitals, as well as men on duty in our advanced positions, read in the newspapers articles that undermined their faith in their commanders and their leaders. The work of breaking down the discipline of the army was carried on energetically, and, of course, it was not altogether fruitless. The ideal at which the leaders in the movement aimed was the state of affairs brought about by the mutinous sailors on the battleship Potemkin. These enemies of the army and the country were aided by certain other persons who were simply foolish and unreasonable. One can imagine the indignation that the M—s, the K—s, and the K—s would feel if they were told that they played the same part in the army that was played by the persons who incited the insubordination on the Potemkin; yet such was the case. Firm in spirit though Russians might be, the indifference of one class of the population, and the seditious incitement of another, could hardly fail to have upon many of them an influence that was not favourable to the successful prosecution of war.

Commanding officers in the Siberian military districts reported, as early as February, that detachments of supernumerary troops and reservists had plundered several railway-stations, and later on regular troops, on their way to the front, were guilty of similar bad conduct. The drifting to the rear of large numbers of soldiers—especially the older reservists—while battles were in progress was due not so much to cowardice as to the unsettling of the men’s minds, and to a disinclination on their part to continue the war. I may add that the opening of peace negotiations at Portsmouth, at a time when we were preparing for decisive operations, unfavourably affected the moral of the best in the army.

M. E. Martinoff, in an article entitled “Spirit and Temper of the Two Armies,” points out that

“ ... even in time of peace, the Japanese people were so educated as to develop in them a patriotic and martial spirit. The very idea of war with Russia was generally popular, and throughout the contest the army was supported by the sympathy of the nation. In Russia, the reverse was true. Patriotism was shaken by the dissemination of ideas of universal brotherhood and disarmament, and in the midst of a difficult campaign the attitude of the country toward the army was one of indifference, if not of actual hostility.”

This judgment is accurate, and it is evident, of course, that with such a relation between Russian society and the Manchurian army it was impossible to expect from the latter any patriotic spirit, or any readiness to sacrifice life for the sake of the Fatherland. In an admirable article, entitled “The Feeling of Duty and the Love of Country,” published in the Russki Invalid in 1906, M. A. Bilderling expressed certain profoundly true ideas as follows:

“Our lack of success may have been due, in part, to various and complicated causes, to the misconduct of particular persons, to bad generalship, to lack of preparation in the army and the navy, to inadequacy of material resources, and to misappropriations in the departments of equipment and supply; but the principal reason for our defeat lies deeper, and is to be found in lack of patriotism, and in the absence of a feeling of duty toward and love for the Fatherland. In a conflict between two peoples, the things of most importance are not material resources, but moral strength, exaltation of spirit, and patriotism. Victory is most likely to be achieved by the nation in which these qualities are most highly developed. Japan had long been preparing for war with us; all her people desired it; and a feeling of lofty patriotism pervaded the whole country. In her army and her fleet, therefore, every man, from the Commander-in-Chief to the last soldier, not only knew what he was fighting for, and what he might have to die for, but understood clearly that upon success in the struggle depended the fate of Japan, her political importance, and her future in the history of the world. Every soldier knew also that the whole nation stood behind him. Japanese mothers and wives sent their sons and husbands to the war with enthusiasm, and were proud when they died for their country. With us, on the other hand, the war was unpopular from the very beginning. We neither desired it nor anticipated it, and consequently we were not prepared for it. Soldiers were hastily put into railway-trains, and when, after a journey that lasted a month, they alighted in Manchuria, they did not know in what country they were, nor whom they were to fight, nor what the war was about. Even our higher commanders went to the front unwillingly, and from a mere sense of duty. The whole army, moreover, felt that it was regarded by the country with indifference; that its life was not shared by the people; and that it was a mere fragment, cut off from the nation, thrown to a distance of 6,000 miles, and there abandoned to the caprice of Fate. Before decisive fighting began, therefore, one of the contending armies advanced with the full expectation and confident belief that it would be victorious, while the other went forward with a demoralizing doubt of its own success.”

Generally speaking, the man who conquers in war is the man who is least afraid of death. We were unprepared in previous wars, as well as in this, and in previous wars we made mistakes; but when the preponderance of moral strength was on our side, as in the wars with the Swedes, the French, the Turks, the Caucasian mountaineers, and the natives of Central Asia, we were victorious. In the late war, for reasons that are extremely complicated, our moral strength was less than that of the Japanese; and it was this inferiority, rather than mistakes in generalship, that caused our defeats, and that forced us to make tremendous efforts in order to succeed at all. Our lack of moral strength, as compared with the Japanese, affected all ranks of our army, from the highest to the lowest, and greatly reduced our fighting power. In a war waged under different conditions—a war in which the army had the confidence and encouragement of the country—the same officers and the same troops would have accomplished far more than they accomplished in Manchuria. The lack of martial spirit, of moral exaltation, and of heroic impulse, affected particularly our stubbornness in battle. In many cases we did not have sufficient resolution to conquer such antagonists as the Japanese. Instead of holding with unshakable tenacity the positions assigned them, our troops often retreated, and in such cases our commanding officers of all ranks, without exception, lacked the power or the means to set things right. Instead of making renewed and extraordinary efforts to wrest victory from the enemy, they either permitted the retreat of the troops under their command, or themselves ordered such retreat. The army, however, never lost its strong sense of duty; and it was this that enabled many divisions, regiments, and battalions to increase their power of resistance with every battle. This peculiarity of the late war, together with our final acquisition of numerical preponderance and a noticeable decline of Japanese ardour, gave us reason to regard the future with confidence, and left no room for doubt as to our ultimate victory.

In both Russian and foreign papers numerous articles have appeared in which the Commander-in-Chief has been accused of a lack of determination in the conduct of various battles. Without any real basis for their statements, critics have represented that orders to retire were for some unknown reason more than once given by him at a moment when victory lay in our hands. Comments upon his indecision and frequent change of orders were so common that the idea became universal that it was Kuropatkin, and Kuropatkin alone, who prevented the army and corps commanders from defeating the enemy.

My first three volumes supply the answer to the most serious of these accusations: in them are described the tremendous efforts we had to make to prevent our operations ending worse than they did. I have never been one of those who believe that an order once given should not be countermanded or modified. In war circumstances change so quickly, and information received so frequently turns out to be false, that it would be fundamentally unsound to insist, in spite of changed conditions, on keeping exactly to an order once issued. An excellent example of this is given by the operations at Hei-kou-tai. The order received by the officer commanding the 1st Siberians to rest his troops on January 27, and to occupy the line Hei-kou-tai–Su-ma-pu–Pei-tai-tzu, was founded on the incorrect supposition of the commander of the 2nd Manchurian Army that San-de-pu had been captured. The former was more than once told not to attack. Yet, even though news was received that San-de-pu had not been taken, he insisted in carrying out the orders given, in which, by a mistake, a village held in force by the enemy was appointed as our halting-place. The result is known: we fought all day, lost 7,000 men, and at daybreak on January 28 were compelled to retire. With regard to the accusation that the late Commander-in-Chief [26] constantly countermanded his own orders, it is interesting to note that General Grippenberg, in his article, “The Truth about the Battle of Hei-kou-tai,” points out that, although he did not agree with him as to the necessity for retiring the right flank of the 2nd Army to take up a more concentrated position, he did not express this opinion to the Commander-in-Chief, because he and all his staff knew that Kuropatkin would never countermand an order once given.

Upon the point as to whether we might have defeated the Japanese at Liao-yang or Mukden we shall remain unenlightened, in spite of the publication of my book, till we know in detail the actual movements of the Japanese in these actions. As regards Liao-yang, I can only express my personal opinion. An important decision, such as that leading to an order for troops to retire, cannot be given upon the inspiration of a moment. All the attendant circumstances have to be taken into account—the results of the previous engagements; the physical and mental condition of the troops; the strength and dispositions of the enemy; the results which he may attain if the fight is continued; the reports from the front, flanks, and rear; the extent to which the reserves have been depleted, their readiness for action; the amount of ammunition in hand, etc. At the battle of Liao-yang Kuroki’s army, in addition to Nodzu’s, might easily have been pushed across to the right bank of the Tai-tzu Ho, just as the Japanese boldly threw the greater part of Oku’s army, in addition to Nogi’s, across on to the right bank of the Hun Ho at Mukden. This was all the more possible because our attempt to assume the offensive with the troops stationed on the left bank on September 2 ended disastrously. If there is no hope of worsting an enemy by an offensive counter-stroke, it is very important for a defending force, circumstanced as we were,[27] to retire in good time, and not to hold on until an orderly retirement becomes impossible to carry out. We retired under very difficult conditions along roads deep in mud, but not a single trophy was left behind, not a prisoner, not a gun, not a transport cart.

If we had delayed a single day, our retirement might have resembled that of the 2nd and 3rd Armies, which were in so awkward a plight at Mukden. For the reasons explained in my third volume, the 2nd Army was, on March 7, almost surrounded on flanks and rear. Great efforts were necessary in order that we might extricate ourselves from the position in which we were placed without being utterly defeated. But these efforts were not made, and the situation of our whole force on March 7, 8, and 9 became worse, and the danger of a considerable part of the 2nd Army being surrounded by Nogi’s troops still more imminent. Comparing the condition of our men with that of the Japanese on March 7 and 8, as well as the positions occupied by the two forces on the 8th, and taking into account the moral superiority of the Japanese, I should have given up hope of a victorious issue from the battle on the 7th and 8th, and have arranged for a retirement to Tieh-ling before the army became disorganized. The future historian will probably accuse me of having held on too long. I did not give the order to retire till March 10, and according to events and the opinion of my staff, the order should have been given a day earlier. If we had retired on the 9th, the army would probably have fallen back in complete order without losing anything (except wounded); indeed, we might have taken with us a fairly large number of prisoners and captured guns and machine-guns. In my report upon the battle of Mukden to His Majesty the Tsar, I acknowledged that I was primarily responsible for our reverse, and admitted that I should have more accurately gauged the difference between the men of the two forces and the qualifications of the commanders, and that I should have been more careful in making my decisions. Hoping against hope to defeat the enemy, despite the disastrous operations of the 2nd Army, between March 2 and 7, I gave the order to retreat too late. I should have abandoned all hope of eventual victory at Mukden a day sooner than I did, and our withdrawal would have been effected in good order. Thus, the general conclusion regarding the battles of Liao-yang and Mukden could, in my opinion, be expressed as follows: If we had retired from Liao-yang a day later than we did, the result would have been much the same as at Mukden; if we had retired from Mukden a day sooner, the result would have been much the same as at Liao-yang.[28]

I might also have been blamed for not holding on longer to Tieh-ling and fighting there, and for ordering the troops to retire on to the Hsi-ping-kai position. My reply is given in detail in my third volume. It is sufficient to say here that, when it was decided to retire from Tieh-ling on March 12 and 13, according to the officers commanding those units of the 2nd and 3rd Armies which suffered most in the battle of Mukden, we only had an effective strength of 16,390 rifles in 114 battalions.[29] If I had accepted battle there under such conditions, it would have been most dangerous, as we might have completely lost the cadres of many units. How long it would have taken us to re-form for a new battle can be judged from the fact that the officer commanding the 3rd Army stated before a committee assembled as late as May 17 [two months after the retreat] that he thought the acceptance of a general action even then on the Hsi-ping-kai position itself was inadvisable.[30]

I will bring the present chapter to a close by quoting literally my farewell address to the officers of the 1st Manchurian Army. In this address, with fresh impressions of all that we had gone through and had actually felt during the war, I outlined those of our defects which prevented us defeating the enemy in the time at our disposal. But while indicating our weaknesses, I also brought out the strong points of the troops which I had commanded—points which gave every reason for a belief that we should have won in the end.

“To the Officers of the 1st Manchurian Army.

“In a few days the 1st Manchurian Army will be broken up, and I must now bid farewell to the glorious troops which I have had the great honour to command for two years. Upon you fell the arduous duty, in the beginning of the war, of withstanding the attack of a numerically superior enemy, so as to gain time for our reinforcements coming from Russia to concentrate. You had the good fortune to be present at the battles of the Ya-lu, Te-li-ssu, Ta-shih-chiao, Yang-tzu Ling, Lang-tzu-shan, and also at the long-drawn struggles of Liao-yang, the Sha Ho, and Mukden, and by your conduct during those fights you earned the praise of the rest of the army.

“With a comparatively weak establishment of five and a half corps (160 battalions), or an average fighting strength of 100,000 rifles and 2,200 officers, the 1st Manchurian Army lost up to March 14, 1905:

			Officers.		Rank and File.
Killed	…	…	395	…	10,435
Wounded	…	…	1,773	…	56,350

or a percentage of killed and wounded amongst the officers of 91, and amongst the rank and file of 67, per cent. of the average war strength. In the independent units the losses in killed and wounded were:

	Officers.		Rank and File.
34th East Siberian Rifle Regiment	89	…	3,243
36th East Siberian Rifle Regiment	73	…	2,531
3rd East Siberian Rifle Regiment	102	…	2,244
4th East Siberian Rifle Regiment	61	…	2,170
23rd East Siberian Rifle Regiment	50	…	2,290
1st East Siberian Rifle Regiment	71	…	1,920

“The particularly gallant conduct in action of the officers is apparent from the fact that the percentage of killed and wounded is considerably higher than that of the men, while many single units proved that it is possible to continue fighting after a loss of two-thirds of the fighting strength. And yet, despite these sacrifices, despite all our efforts, we were unable to beat the enemy. Undoubtedly we had to fight against a very brave, energetic, and most martial foe. So careless were the Japanese of life that they piled the bodies of their comrades on our obstacles, and endeavoured to reach our positions by climbing over these masses of corpses. For a long time also they were able to bring superior forces against us. But we became tempered by misfortune, and gained wisdom by experience, and our numbers grew until we finally became so strong in mind and spirit last summer that victory seemed assured.

“The intervals of comparative peace between the great battles were employed in strengthening the army, and many positions up to and including Mukden were fortified with immense trouble. After that battle the defence of the left flank of the whole force was entrusted to you, and three very strong defensive lines were constructed by your labours up to the River Sungari. These lines, particularly the first and second, were, on account of their fortifications and the nature of the ground, in every way suited either for a desperate defence or for the attack. Although our army was not quite ready to assume the offensive by last May, it would have welcomed orders to advance. The enemy, shaken by their losses at Mukden, kept their positions for six months, and waited for us to move forward. We inaugurated many improvements based upon our previous experiences in the war, and the tactical training of the troops made immense progress. We not only filled up our weakened ranks by means of the drafts which reached us, but expanded all the rifle regiments into four battalions. In the way of reinforcements, the 1st Army received the 53rd Infantry Division, the Cossack Infantry Brigade, and the Don Cossack Division.

“The firing-line of the 1st Army was in August last stronger than it was at the beginning of the war, before the September battles on the Sha Ho, and, thanks to the great exertions of those in command, and the unselfish work of the medical services, the health of the army remained excellent throughout. It was, indeed, fortunate, for if any great sickness had broken out we should, owing to the few drafts then arriving, only have had very weak cadres for the field. It was absolutely essential, therefore, that no expense or efforts should be spared in order to keep every man fit for the ranks, and I am happy to say that our common efforts met with unusual success, for our losses from sickness were less than in killed and wounded. In the 1st Manchurian Army we had lost up to August 14, 1905, 2,218 officers and 66,785 other ranks killed and wounded in action, and 2,390 officers and 58,093 other ranks from sickness. I draw your attention to the fact that while the percentage of losses from action should naturally be higher among the officers than the men, they ought, on account of their better living, to lose less from sickness. The converse was the case with us, which shows that our officers were not sufficiently hardy, and did not know how to preserve their health. To this we must pay particular attention.

“In material matters the army was also excellently situated in August. Clothing and equipment of all sorts were on the spot and plentiful, while all technical supplies had accumulated. Never have we been such a formidable force in every sense as we had become by the summer of 1905, when we were suddenly informed of the unhappy negotiations at Portsmouth, and that peace had been concluded. Doubtless this was necessitated by the state of the interior of Russia; but it was heart-breaking for the army. I remember with what grief the news was received by all ranks. Life seemed to die out of our bivouacs, and all our minds were filled by one sad thought—that the war had ended before the enemy had been beaten. Looking back on the trials we have recently gone through, we can find consolation in the feeling that we have done our duty to Tsar and country as far as has lain in our power; but for many reasons the time given us has turned out to be insufficient. These reasons we must fearlessly search out, and discover what—beyond mere numerical inferiority—prevented our success before peace was concluded. Before all others, I, your senior commander, am guilty because I did not succeed in rectifying our many moral and material defects during the war, and in making the most of the undoubted strong points of our troops. The material defects are known to all of us—the small number of rifles in the firing-line per company [partly owing to lack of care to put as many men as possible into action], the insufficiency [at the beginning] of mountain artillery, the lack of high explosive shells, of machine-guns, and of technical stores of all sorts. By last August the majority of these deficiencies had, through the great exertions of the War Ministry, been made good. Our moral defects I attribute to the different standards of training among the troops, their inferior technical preparation, and the great numerical weakness of units in action. We also suffered much from inadequate reconnaissance of the enemy’s position before a battle, and the resulting vagueness as to how to conduct the action [particularly in the attack]; and, most important, from the lack of initiative and independent thought in individual commanders, the absence of the military spirit in officers and men, of dash, of mutual co-operation between units, and of a general determination to carry out a task to a finish at any sacrifice. The tendency to accept defeat too soon—after only the advanced troops had suffered—and of retiring instead of repeating the attack and setting an example, was highly detrimental. Such retirement, instead of calling forth increased efforts from the neighbours, in most cases only served as a signal for their own retreat.

“Generally speaking, there was in all ranks a great dearth of men of strong military character, with nerves tough enough to enable them to stand the strain of an almost continual battle lasting for several days. It is evident that neither our educational system nor our national life during the last forty to fifty years has been of a nature to produce men of strong independent characters, or more would have appeared in our army when wanted. Now the Tsar has given us the blessing of freedom. The nation has been released from the leading-strings of a bureaucracy, and can now develop freely, and direct its energies to the good of the country. Let us hope that this blessing of freedom, coupled to a well-thought-out system of education, will raise the material and moral forces of the Russian nation, and produce in every sphere of national activity stalwarts who are enterprising, independent, possessed of initiative, and strong in body and soul. By an infusion of such the army will be enriched. But it is not possible for the army idly to await results which are the work of a generation. Knowing now our strong and weak points, we can, and ought to, start on self-improvement without delay. The war has brought out many men [especially amongst all ranks of the 1st Army], from modest company officers up to corps commanders, on whose energy, zeal, and ability the Russian nation can rely; and I notice with pleasure that not a few of those amongst the 1st Army have received good appointments in the Far East and in Russia. This should serve as a fresh proof that the Tsar is diligently watching our efforts, and is losing no time in employing the most worthy of you to the advantage of the whole army.

“You have first-hand knowledge of the difficult conditions generally under which war is now conducted, and of the moral and physical effort that is required to carry on an almost continuous battle for several days. You also know by experience the exact value in action of all kinds of technical equipment. All this makes it necessary for you to endeavour to perfect yourselves. With the exception of the cadet corps, our schools take no pains about the physical development of children; consequently, many of our officers, as was evident in the war, are physically feeble. Pay attention to gymnastics, to fencing, to singlesticks, and to musketry. An officer should not be a mere spectator of the physical exercises of the men—a thing I have often noticed—but should himself set the example to those under him.

“The relations between officers and men have always been of the closest. Like fathers to the men, our officers have won their affectionate respect. Remember that to our soldiers the word ‘father-commander’ is not merely an empty phrase; they believe in it. Remember, also, that a commander only wins the heart of his soldiers when he is their father-commander. It is quite possible to be strict and at the same time look after the men’s welfare, for our soldiers are not afraid of severity, but respect it; in the majority of cases a just severity is a deterrent against crime. But the simple-minded soldier is particularly sensitive to injustice, and soon sees through any deceit practised on him. You who shared with the men all the hardships and dangers of field service are very favourably situated. The men having seen you in action—always in your place, giving an example of unselfishness—will forgive much, and will follow you through fire and water. These links which bind the ranks must be carefully maintained, and officers who have been in the field with units must not be removed from them unless absolutely necessary. Guard the military traditions acquired by regiments, and do your best to preserve the memory of the gallant deeds done by companies, squadrons, or batteries collectively, or by individual members of them. Keep in close touch with the private soldier; try to win his full confidence. You will gain it by your constant care of and your affection for him; by your strict, and at the same time fatherly, relations to him; by knowing your work; and by your own example. Only by these will you be able to take advantage of all his good points, to correct his defects, and guard him from the harmful influences which will be more numerous in the future than ever. The recent cases of military mutinies should be constantly in our memories. I turn to you officers in command of regiments in particular. You know the great responsibility which falls upon you in action. How often has the issue of the battle depended on the way a regiment has been led. It has often been enough for an energetic, gallant, capable man to get the command of a regiment to change its character utterly. The selection of men for these appointments must, therefore, be carefully made, and those chosen must work incessantly to educate all those under them.

“Up to the present our regimental commanders have, unfortunately, been too much taken up with routine and office work, and have been unable to give sufficient time to the practical military side of their duties, to that intercourse between officers and men which is so valuable. Some seem to think that their chief duty is to look after such details as the colour and the repainting of the transport carts, and not the training of the men. The constant strain of how to make both ends meet with the money granted, how to maintain the clothing and other funds, has increased to such an extent, and worries some commanders so much, that they scarcely get to know their own officers, and do positive harm to their men by trying to increase funds at the expense of their rations, and therefore of their health. In the late war the Supply Department carried out their difficult duties so well that they have proved that they deserve to be implicitly trusted in peace-time; we can therefore give over to this department much of the work of supplying the troops (clothing, equipment, transport, food). Then regimental and company commanders will stand out as real flesh and blood commanders in the true sense, and will cease to be “office” automatons and mere inspectors of stores and depôts, and the work of training and education will progress.

“I would invite the special attention of all commanding officers to the necessity for thoroughly studying the characters of those under them. With us, men of independent character and initiative are rare. Search out such men, encourage them, promote them, and so encourage the growth of the qualities which are essential for all soldiers. Men of strong individuality are with us, unfortunately, often passed over, instead of receiving accelerated promotion. Because they are a source of anxiety to some officers in peace, they get repressed as being headstrong. The result is that they leave the service, while others, who possess neither force of character nor convictions, but who are subservient, and always ready to agree with their superiors, are promoted. Remember how much our inattention to the opinions and evidence of those under us has cost us.

“The greater part of the 1st Army is to remain in the Far East, and I am convinced that the glorious Siberian regiments of the 1st Manchurian Army, which have been such a tower of strength in action, will now, under the new conditions of peace, still be Russia’s bulwark in that quarter.

“In bidding you farewell, my dear comrades in the field, I sincerely hope that the war experience you have gained will be of great advantage to the army and the country. Devoted to Crown and country, always ready to maintain law and order, and to uphold the authority of the Government, holding yourselves aloof from the intrigues of political parties, and knowing your own weak and strong points as shown up by the struggle we have all been through, you will, I believe, quickly heal your wounds, and lead the army in its struggle towards perfection. Although in the future you may be denied the recollection of victories won, you can remember—and this should be a consolation and an encouragement—that you were ready, without fear of sacrifice, to continue the struggle with the gallant enemy till you had beaten him. You, officers, believed that you would win, and you succeeded in instilling this belief into our grand soldiers.

“May God assist you in the duties that lie before you, which are as important for our dear country as any we have already performed, even though they be in peace. Farewell. Accept my sincere gratitude for all your self-denying service in the field, and express to the men my thanks for their services, and for the many proofs they have given of devotion and loyalty to the Tsar and Fatherland.

“Shuan-chen-pu,
“February 18, 1906.”