the february revolution in the russian army

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The February Revolution in the Russian ArmyAuthor(s): Allan WildmanSource: Soviet Studies, Vol. 22, No. 1 (Jul., 1970), pp. 3-23Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/149649 .

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THE FEBRUARY REVOLUTION IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY' By ALLAN WILDMAN

HISTORIANS tend to overwork the cliche that the Russian monarchy was not 'overthrown' in I917, but 'fell' because of its own inner rotten- ness and incapacity. By itself a legitimate formulation, it should not be understood as signifying a simple changing of the guard. An imposing institutional edifice, sanctified by centuries of history, was wrenched from its foundations, and a baffling new constellation of forces-over-

lapping, and conflicting-emerged in its place; each party was anxious to play an important role, but all lacked direction. In short, what occurred was indeed a genuine revolution, and all attempts to contain it within the framework of a dynastic coup or a constitutional adjust- ment were unavailing. Such was the profound re-combination of power relationships that it took some time for various organs of authority to find out what they could and could not do. The Provisional Govern- ment soon discovered that it could not get the trams, factories and rail-

ways running without the Soviet's approval. Several instruments of tsarist despotism vanished within hours as a result of popular wrath- the political and ordinary police, the governor-generals and their staffs, the district courts and the prisons. Premier Lvov's happy thought of

replacing the governor-generals with chairmen of the provincial zemstvo boards (many of them inveterate reactionaries) drew panicky telegrams from local revolutionary bodies, who requested instead ratification of their own measures.2 General Alekseev's instructions from Supreme Headquarters to bring all unauthorized agitators before

1 This article represents the initial part of a more extensive study of the Russian Army in 1917. The research so far has drawn upon 1917 newspapers, memoirs, published sources and such manuscripts as are available in the US (chiefly at the Hoover Institution in Palo Alto, California and the Ru'ssian Archive of Columbia University). Grants from the American Philosophical Society and the Research Foundation of the State University of New York enabled the author to work on the project uninterruptedly for seven months in the spring and summer of I968.

2 As in France in 1789, every provincial city experienced a miniature version of events in the metropolis, centring around municipal institutions. The city Dumas rapidly absorbed representatives of various social groupings and, renamed as 'Committees of Social Organizations' or 'Committees of Public Safety', took over all functions of local authority. Hastily formed militias replaced the local police; garrison troops, often led by their officers, swore loyalty to the new authorities; prisons were opened, amnesties declared, judicial records destroyed, etc. Though usually represented in the new city governments, the workers, soldiers and socialist intellectuals invariably established Soviets. The newspapers of 1917 gave glowing accounts of these local revolutions, which followed a strikingly uniform pattern.



the field military courts (presumably to be shot) were equally unavailing. Even the harried Soviet Executive Committee often found itself following, rather than leading, its turbulent constituency.3

The unprecedented breakdown in the normal lines of authority was occasioned above all by the unexpected surfacing of the garrison soldiery in Petrograd and the chief cities, who quickly came to relish their display of strength and their special role as custodians of the Revolution. The soldiers in Petrograd advertised this discovery by careering around the city in commandeered cars draped with red banners, or by swathing themselves in machine-gun belts and assorted

weaponry; disarming officers and displacing solid citizens in trams and railway compartments became a favourite sport. It was after all they who had turned the tide by refusing to fire on the crowds and by taking over their barracks. At first frightened by the enormity of their disobedience, they soon realized that they were regarded as heroes of the Revolution. Far from being punished they were cheered by the victorious crowds and regaled by fine ladies at the Tauride Palace with food and refuge. Some were led forth by students with red arm-bands to arrest tsarist ministers, while others were assigned important errands

by officers with colonels' epaulettes (the Duma Military Commission), who conveniently ignored their mutiny. During all this time the officers of their units were nowhere to be seen; those few who had tactlessly attempted to intervene had been dealt with violently and no questions were raised thereafter.

By the time the Military Commission was able to bring about the return of the officers to their regiments to defend the Revolution (late the following day), their relations with their men had undergone a profound change. Stankevich, the first officer to rejoin his unit and bring it in marching order to the seat of the Duma, comments sombrely in his memoirs:

Even if some of the officers did return and join the movement five minutes after the soldiers, it made no difference. The officers followed the soldiers, and not the soldiers the officers, and those 'five minutes' created [between them] an unfathomable abyss, undercutting all the foundations of the old army.4

Not the officers' most ardent professions of loyalty to the Revolution, not the most imposing ceremonial parades to the Tauride Palace, not even the careful diplomacy of Soviet leaders could make up for those 'cursed five minutes'. The course of the Revolution, for good or for ill,

3 This study will assume familiarity with the accounts of Chamberlin, Carr, Radkey, Trotsky and Sukhanov, where most of the unfootnoted points will find confirmation. For Alekseev's circular telegrams to all units of 3 and 4 March, see 'Verkhovnoe komandovanie v pervye dni revolyutsii', Krasnyi arkhiv, 1924, no. V, pp. 222-5.

4 V. Stankevich, Vospominaniszya iI4-t-y1r (Berlin, 1920), p. 72. Stankevich later became an

important figure in the Executive Committee of the Soviet and, still later, a commissar of the Provisional Government at the front.

THLE FEBRUARY REVOLUTION 4



IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY

was henceforward largely subject to the capricious whims and demands of the garrison soldiers, whose mood soon enough insinuated itself into every pore of the seven million man army. The Army, in short, held the fate of the Revolution in its hands.

Even given the paramount role of the army we need not assume that the Revolution could have taken no other course. Or were the army's war-weary millions destined to become the ragged cohorts of Bolshev- ism? Surely the front and provincial units could have been retrieved from the worst lapses in discipline and 'insulated' from politics. The front army could have become a counterweight to the turbulent soldiers and workers in the rear, and, if not a reliable instrument in the hands of a future Kornilov, at least a prop to the sagging authority of the Provisional Government. Or, if this all seems too hazardous a specula- tion, might one not think the soldiers' committees and front commissars capable of responding to the leadership of the Soviet majority and of supporting the government 'in so far as' it carried out the pro- gramme of 'democracy' and sought a negotiated peace without annexa- tions or indemnities? We know what did happen, but our judgement of the events should be based on a knowledge of the patterns of action and range of possibilities which emerged in the first few weeks. It is the purpose of this paper to give a closer glimpse than has heretofore been available of the impact of the February Revolution at the front, and to portray the new power relationships as they affected the future role of the army.

However onerous conditions were at the front in the winter of I916/I7, it could not be said that the trench soldiers were on the verge of revolt. Disillusionment with the war was certainly widespread and growing, born of several years of sitting under raining death and fostered by the sure knowledge that after the spring campaign more than half their number would be gone. But the actual fighting in the winter months was relatively light, the casualties moderate (again relatively), and warm clothing, ammunition and arms, in comparison with the disastrous shortages of the past winters, adequate. A decline in food rations was just beginning to occasion grumbling. The crude mechanism of military discipline, working through ingrained habit and the fear of punishment, was still sufficiently effective to discourage thoughts of outright mutiny. Muffled dissatisfaction revealed itself primarily in the increasing number of desertions (or voluntary capture), self-inflicted wounding, and slackness rather than defiant breaches of discipline. More ominous than complaints over the hardships of war was the rapidly declining prestige of the imperial family and the governmental leadership. Rumours of Rasputin and German influences in high places began to seep from the officers' quarters into the trenches.

5



TIIHE FEB R UAR Y RE VOLUTIO N

The soldiers, of course, gave these rumours the wildest and most arbitrary constructions (not devoid of canny insight); and, more seriously, they began to connect them with things they could observe around them. Shortages were easily blamed on graft and collusion with the enemy, losses in a local action, on the deliberate 'opening up of the front' by 'spies' in the army command, a sentiment confirmed by the

presence of many officers with German-sounding names. And, if not German spies, then the officers as a class (obstinately regarded as

'gentlemen' whatever their social origin) were blamed for deliberately killing off the simple people in order to grab their lands; and, finally, greedy 'capitalists' were out to build markets on the mountains of Russian and German corpses.5

One account suggests that after the news of the murder of Rasputin and the failure of several minor winter actions a moold of expectancy set in-an expectancy of even more cataclysmic events, which were connected in the soldiers' minds with hopes for the end of the war.6 Soldiers were inclined to take fewer risks, resisted the usual training and

housekeeping duties and spent much time in card-playing and idle conversation. They communicated far less with their officers and kept to themselves-waiting. This impression may or may not have been influenced by hindsight, but in any event no evidence points towards widespread thoughts of mutiny, of murdering officers, or of mass disobedience to military orders. The soldiers, in so far as they looked for change, seem to have expected it to be undertaken by others, and were not themselves inclined to take the initiative. Where the possi- bility of retribution was slight or the provocation great, the peasant- soldier was capable of striking out with brutal, even savage violence against his superiors, but for the most part he respected the grim certitude of swift punishment for infractions of discipline. He preferred to wait.7

5 The following excerpt from a soldier's letter, cited in a military censor's report of I 5 February 1917, was typical of the soldiers' mood: 'It's shameful that we have to suffer a third year for God knows what.... Are we to blame that the government acquired enemies by letting in German colonists, giving them lands, letting them get into positions of authority over the Russian people? The German is now ruling our country. The Russian peasant has no way of getting anything, neither education nor a free life. He has been given only one right-to go begging in Christ's name, and now they make him defend, not the fatherland, but the land-owning "barons"' (A. 1. Sidorov (ed.), Revolyiutsionnoe dvighbenie iv armii i ,Sa floe, ipz4-feevral/ya, I917 (M. i966), p. 293). Similar reports document most of the points mentioned above. Censors' reports were usually coloured by their anxiety to relay comforting news to their superiors, and soldiers, knowing that their letters were read, expressed their true sentiments cautiously, if at all; still, there are illuminat- ing exceptions: witness the above.

6 See G. M. Chemodanov, Poslednie dni tsarskoi armii (M.-L. I926), ch. 9. 7 There were exceptions, usually occasioned when a unit staffed by inexperienced officers was

ordered into what seemed to be a suicidal attack. Soviet sources document a few cases of refusal to 'go over the top', and Chemodanov gives a detailed account of another. See ibid., ch. 6 and Sidorov, op. cit., pp. 237, 247. Those familiar with the carnage accompanying every major offensive in World War I will be surprised that instances of disobedience were not more general. Other armies had to deal with this phenomenon. It had very little to do with revolutionary sentiments.

6



The news of the February Revolution hit the front with unexpected suddenness. News from travellers of the disorders in the capital could scarcely reach the northern sectors of the front before 28 February, and then in very garbled and conflicting versions.8 With the full collapse of authority in Petrograd on 27 February, the censorship apparatus ceased to function, and news agency telegrams went out to all major cities, appearing here and there in print over the next few days (depending on when the local censorship went out of business). Although the Revolu- tion was in full swing in a number of garrison and port cities on the 28th and in many more by the folo wing day, news via this route could not reach the front for another day or so. True, rumours were set

flying on the 27th in those sectors affected by the formation of the Ivanov expedition (scratch units were drawn from three different fronts, totalling five infantry and three cavalry regiments, plus assorted smaller units), but even the officers were left to guess at the purpose of their mission. General Alekseev, Nicholas's Chief-of-Staff at Mogilev, informed the front commanders at mid-day on the 28th of the defection of the Petrograd garrison and the assumption of authority by the Duma Committee, but he gave no instructions for informing lower echelons.9 The Western and Northern Front commanders Generals Ruzsky and Everts passed this information along to their respective army chiefs, but on the other fronts (Southwestern, Rumanian, Caucasus) the army and corps headquarters were officially informed only on 3 March; indeed, most of them first received indications of the magnitude of events through enemy radio broadcasts or by propaganda placards raised over the enemy trenches. On i March, General Kvenitsky, Chief of Staff to General Everts on the Western Front, informed Supreme H-eadquarters by direct wire that 'the front is being flooded with agency telegrams, rumours, and eye-witnesses arriving from all over... so that one is at a loss to distinguish truth from gossip'.10 He urgently requested that the situation be defined lest the unrest in the rear infect the front- line army. The same shock wave hit the more southern fronts by 3 March.

The Army Headquarters at Mogilev (Stavka) was at a loss to give 8 The chronicle of the first few days can be recapitulated with considerable accuracy from the

published telegrams exchanged between the Supreme Headquarters, Petrograd and various commands in Kras?nyi arkhib, 1924, no. V, pp. 219--40, 1927, no. XXI, pp. 1-78, and no. XXII,

pp. 3---70; also available are the excellent diaries of Generals Selivachev and Boldyrev (ibid., 1925, no. IX, pp. 104-32, no. X, pp. I38--74, and 1927, no. XXIII, pp. 250--73). Several officers' diaries were available to the author at the Columbia Archive, as well as a valuable deposition by General E. K. Miller at the Hoover Institution. The numerous published memoirs are, of course, very useful, but not as reliable on exact timing. The best source in English is the very detailed and perceptive diary of a naval officer at Reval (D. Fedotoff-White, S'urviva/l Throusgh War and Revosltion

(Philadelphia, 1939), ch. 7). It confirms that the pattern of events on the naval vessels differed from the army very little, except in the degree of violence.

9 See Krassfii arkhiv, 1927, no. XXI, p. 22. () Ibid., p. 50.

IN THE R USSIAN A RMY 7



THE FEBR UAR Y RE VOLUTION

more explicit instructions, because of the absence of the Supreme Commander (the tsar), who against all advice had departed for Tsarskoe Selo early on 28 February; the protracted drama in Pskov over Nicholas's abdication, which thoroughly engaged Alekseev and

Ruzsky, further prolonged the confusion. Although news of the signing of the abdication went out over the wires to army commanders in the

early morning hours of 3 March, a few hours later Rodzianko on behalf of the Duma Committee urged that the announcement be held up another day because of Grand Duke Michael's refusal to accept the throne. It was regarded as desirable to publish the text of both abdications at once along with the news of the formation of a Provisional Government and the promise of a Constituent Assembly. The order came through at 6 o'clock on the morning of 4 March, but, given the

complicated command structure, most unit commanders were unable to announce the events to their troops until the following day. Thus only on 5 March were the majority of the troops officially informed of the true character of events and of the end of the dynasty.

In spite of the rumours and suspicions occasioned by several days of official silence, most front commanders were apparently struck by the calm with which their men received the news. There was general jubilation over the newly proclaimed freedom and total absence of

regret over the fallen dynasty, but few expressions of shock or alarm. Pleased by this initial reaction, many officers sent encouraging reports to their superiors; this information in the course of its progress up the chain of command was optimistically re-interpreted as a sign that the vast majority of the soldiers were actually distressed over the abdication, but loyally accepted the tsar's last wish that they should obey the State

Duma, which they were confident would lead them on to victory.11 It soon became evident, however, that this interpretation was

premature; on the contrary, the trench soldiers were severely aroused

by the events and soon revealed their deeper sentiments. The men became convinced that their officers were intentionally 'hiding some-

thing' and had deliberately misrepresented events. Why had they waited several days before transmitting the news? Why were the two Mani- festoes of abdication not accompanied by 'orders' from the new

government? (The instructions were simply to read to the troops the 1 This process is clearly reflected in a quite disingenuous report of Alekseev to Premier Lvov

on 9 March, in which he claims to summarize the reports of various units on how the abdication was received. Most units are described as greeting the news with 'reserve' and 'peacefully', on occasion 'indifferently', but he also records reactions such as 'sadness and regret', 'confusion and anxiety' or fears that 'without a tsar we can't get along' or hopes for the return of the tsar. The role of the Soviet is represented frequently as causing alarm and indignation. Alekseev deliberately erases any distinction between reactions of officers and men to give Lvov the impression that the Army as a whole was still loyally monarchist. It was a pitiful attempt on Alekseev's part to frighten the politicians in Petrograd. See Krasnyi arkhiv, I924, no. V, pp. 233-5. His misrepresentations were cruelly refuted by the events of the following days.

8



text of the two abdications, of which Michael's contained the news of the formation of the Provisional Government and the promise of a Constituent Assembly.) If the monarchy had been abolished, why were most officers still wearing the imperial insignia and why did Nicholas's

portrait still hang on the wall at headquarters? There were widespread rumours based on wishful thinking that the new government had issued 'decrees' promising peace and an immediate division of the land, which the officers had knowingly suppressed. Instead, the soldiers were told that they must continue to fight until the enemy was crushed and that the land question would be decided after the war. If the people have received freedom, many of them reasoned, then the 'gentlemen' have lost and the exaggerated forms of deference to officers are no longer necessary. For many of them that included saluting, standing at attention, and the use of elaborate titles, which in the Russian Army were carefully graded by rank ('Your Excellency' for one grade, 'Your Eminence' for another). Moreover, they could no longer see the reason for automatic obedience to orders and constantly requested expk - tions for this or that command. A despondent officer of a guard's regiment of the Special Army on the Western Front kept a close record of those days, and thus catalogued the suspicions of his men:

They didn't know which side we were on or of what political tendency; they feared we would surrender our positions to the Germans; they were convinced we were hiding some new pronouncements; they wondered if we really supported the new regime; they feared their freedom would be taken away again, that they would be the victims of treachery; they believed every ridicul- ous rumour of the most sinister origin. They never let go of their rifles and a few times things were on the verge of blowing up.12

The same officer went on to say that 'however well disposed they might be towards individual officers, in their eyes we all remain gentlemen (bariny)'; to them what had occurred was 'not at all a political, but a social revolution which we had lost and they had won'.13

How well the officers were able to cope with this spontaneous upsurge depended on the flexibility and tact of the individual officer. Repression no longer inspired awe, and skilful persuasion was far more likely to restore calm. Not all commanders were as tactless as the colonel of the regiment who was overheard by his men to say: 'the riff-raff are getting their freedom, but we'll settle accounts with them after the war.'14 Such officers, particularly if their names were German, were the most likely candidates for lynching in the first few days, and wise superior officers quickly transferred them to the rear. Most officers, particularly career officers in the higher grades, were totally unprepared

12 'IZ ofitserskikh pisem s fronta v 1917 g', ibid., 1932, no. L-LI, p. I99. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid.

IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY 9



THE FEBRUARY REVOLUTION

to explain political events to their troops, even if they were not in-

corrigible monarchists (and many of them were not).15 A few reactionaries resorted to clever temporizing, such as claiming that Nicholas had worn himself out in leading the war and had temporarily handed over matters to the Duma; but most officers either simply read the text of the two Manifestoes as instructed, or added to it only short exhortations to performance of duty. The confusion and reticence of most officers simply fanned the flames of suspicion, and any form of evasion or

subterfuge was likely to precipitate unpleasant confrontations. One

typical response was to turn over the task of explaining things and

restoring calm to junior officers of intelligentsia origin, who supposedly were more conversant in 'politics'. The well-known emigre scholar Fedor Stepun, at the time a junior grade artillery officer, received such an assignment from the C.O. of his battalion. Meeting with surprising success, he was approached by a group of agitated enlisted men from a nearby infantry regiment, who feared their comrades were about to hang their C.O. and abandon the front. Without bothering to clear it

through channels Stepun confronted the restless crowd of soldiers. His vivid record of this critical moment is worth reproducing:

The 'conspirators' greeted me without any hostility. Observing their simple and more confused than threatening faces, I was ashamed that I had taken the precaution of bringing my revolver. At first glance it was clear to me these were not evil-minded rebels, but ordinary stubborn-minded fellows.

'What's the matter, boys? Speak up!' Instead of an answer-the typical muzhik silence signifying mistrust. I

repeated the question to a nearby soldier with an intelligent face.... 'How is it, Your Honour, now that we have freedom? In Piter [Petrograd]

supposedly an order came out making peace, since we don't need anything that belongs to somebody else. Peace-that means heading home to our wives and kids. But His Excellency [the C.O.] says "Nothing doing: freedom is for those who are still alive after the war. For the time being you have to defend the fatherland". But, Your Honour, we suspect that our colonel is a rebel against the new regime and is trying to bully us, because he knows the new law is to go into effect that removes us from the front.'

'That's the truth,' sounded a nearby resolute voice. Then from the thick of the crowd came even more agitated and embittered voices: 'What's the use of driving into Galicia anyway, when back home they're going to divide up the land.' 'What the devil do we need another hill-top for, when we can make peace at the bottom?' 'Yes, the C.O. gets a St. George's [Cross] for taking the hill- top, but for that you'll be six feet under!'16

Stepun, falling into the role of a kindly barin dealing with obstinate peasants, patiently explained to them that the Germans were not about

15 General Selivachev, commander of a Finnish Rifle Division on the Southwestern Front and a very keen diarist, makes the following estimate of the typical career officers: 'The gentlemen officers, not having the right in peace time to read supposedly "unreliable" newspapers, proved to be entirely unprepared for political speeches or conversations . . . our young officers are good for nothing as far as the indoctrination of the soldiers is concerned .... [They have] complete ignorance, political indolence, and no understanding of the situation' ('Iz dnevnika Gen. V. I. Selivacheva', Krasnyi arkhiv, 19Z5, IX, p. 128).

16 Fedor Stepun, Byvshee i nesbyvsheesya (New York, I956), vol. I, p. Io.

IO




to make peace, and would take over their lands if the front were opened up. He extracted a solemn vow to stay at their posts and to obey their orders, which, he assured them, emanated indeed from the new government. In general, those officers who took the initiative without betray- ing regrets for the fallen dynasty, and who made a few concessions in the observance of military regulations could maintain some semblance of discipline. But officers who showed hesitation, ambivalence or hostility to the new order went unheeded, and continued to face unpleasant incidents in the first few days. And such officers, even those of intelligentsia origin, were in the majority.

This spontaneous ferment was fed by an uninterrupted supply of news from the urban centres. The telegrams exchanged in the first days between Supreme Headquarters and the front bear eloquent testimony to the anxiety of the commanding staff lest the unrest in the rear spill over to the front. Trains to and from the front were always full of men returning from leave or being re-assigned, so that there was no effective way of preventing news from travelling. Within a week newspapers were regularly arriving at the front and were grabbed by news-hungry soldiers. Alekseev vainly pleaded with the Provisional Government to 'take measures' to stop the flow of political propaganda and self- appointed revolutionary deputations which fanned out along the railway lines. As a particular instance he referred to an 'armed delegation of the workers' party' which had arrived at the transfer station of Rezhitsa; claiming to represent the Provisional Government, they were

disarming officers and police, opening up the prisons, and infecting the local garrison with the spirit of disobedience.17 Orders were sent out on 3 March from the headquarters of the Northern Front to all army commanders to

take all necessary measures to combat vagabonding in the rear, to curtail sharply the number of passes issued, to establish control points on the railways at places of access to the front ... in order to isolate the troops from penetra- tion by agitators.18

Many regimental and divisional C.O.'s without waiting for orders cancelled leaves and forbade the distribution of newspapers; the result, however, was usually to deepen the already widening gulf between themselves and their men and to provide new pretexts for clashes. The front soldiers were inordinately eager for authentic information from the rear, and plied each returning comrade assiduously for the latest news, whereas the pronouncements of the officers were greeted with scepticism, if not scorn. Orderlies and radio and telegraph operators often passed on confidential information that came into headquarters.

17 Krasnyi arkhiv, I924, no. V, pp. 224-5.

18 Ibid., I927, no. XXII, p. 31.




Newspapers, despite the clumsy efforts to intercept them, were passed from hand to hand and read aloud in the trenches. The more en-

lightened officers distributed newspapers themselves to offset the turmoil created by unfounded rumours and the suspicion of concealing information. Many an officer was forcibly removed from his post hnd accused of 'counter-revolutionary activity' precisely because he held up the distribution of newspapers or cancelled leaves. In other words, there was no effective way of insulating the front from the unsettling effect of events in the rear and all attempts to do so simply compounded the evil.

Not only did the front soldiers soon learn the details of political events but they heard fresh accounts from the immediate rear. They knew that local garrison troops were employed by the new revolutionary authorities to disarm the police, occupy railway stations, and

intercept Ivanov's expedition to the capital. In general, officers who travelled on the railway in these days were likely to be searched for weapons by self-appointed guardians of the Revolution, and were otherwise subjected to various humiliations, such as the removal of insignia. Actual lynchings, though often threatened, were few, but were most likely to occur when an officer attempted to restore order in the barracks or along the railway lines. Such was the case in Rezhitsa and

Luga.19 Unbridled violence was still rare at the front, but everywhere the bow was tautly strung.

Many junior officers, baffled by events, often young and inexperienced, were unable to exert any influence on their men and retreated to the company of their own kind in the officers' quarters. But the con- gregating of officers only fanned fresh rumours of dark plots against the new order, and churlish soldiers often milled about threateningly at battalion and regimental headquarters. The slightest misstep by the officers could trigger off their arrest and the elevation of more popular officers in their places. Divisional and corps headquarters were bombarded by requests to legitimize such actions, and these requests were often endorsed by fellow officers who hoped to head off further trouble. The unfortunates arrived at headquarters under escort with a list of their supposed offences, the most frequent being expressions of sympathy for the fallen dynasty, attempts to discipline soldiers for failing to salute or for wearing red arm-bands, and 'spying' for the enemy. The grounds for the latter charge were often no more than a German-sounding name and an unpleasant disposition. There is no question but that many an old score was settled in this fashion. The

19 See the report of the Duma representatives Yanushkevich and Filonenko (discussed in detail below) in N. E. Kakurin and Ya. A. Yakovlev (ed.), Rajlobhenie armii v Ip 17 godu (M.-L. 1925), p. 451, and N. Voronovich, 'Zapiski predsedatelya Soveta soldatskikh deputatov', Arkbiv gra<hdanskoi voiny, vyp. II (Berlin, I92I), pp. 25 ff.

I 2



removal of regimental or divisional commanders or officers on their staffs occurred far less frequently, but was not unknown. As early as 6 March Ruzsky reported to Alekseev on the panic created in the officer

corps by the spontaneous wave of arrests and other humiliations per- petrated by subordinates.20 In practice he and many other army chiefs sanctioned the changes demanded by soldiers as the best means to restore calm and avert lynchings. Even so firm a disciplinarian as General Shatilov, who commanded a division of Cossacks in the remote Caucasus, admits that on several occasions he thought it best to remove unpopular officers, even though he was convinced that they were good soldiers, in order to head off a 'demand' for their removal.21 The High Command, Alekseev and Brusilov in particular, at first desperately tried to insist on the illegality of such changes in command, but soon resigned themselves to the practice.22

The phenomena described above can be characterized as the spontaneous reaction of untutored trench soldiers to the new political situation; they often occurred under the stimulus of news from the capital, and cannot justly be ascribed to the pernicious influence of the Petrograd Soviet or to any other organized group of agitators. How- ever, there was one Soviet measure which profoundly affected the further course of the upheaval at the front and thoroughly deserves its awesome reputation. This was Order No. i. The still disputed origins of this famous document lie outside the present study, but suffice it to say that it was an accurate expression of the sentiments of the mutinous garrison soldiers upon which the Soviet Executive Committee half- intentionally, half-unwittingly put its imprimatur in the first turbulent moments of the Revolution.23 The institution of committees in 'all companies, battalions, regiments, batteries and squadrons', the control over weapons, and the equivocations on the execution of military orders reflected the desire of the soldiers to reinforce their independent position

20 See Krasnyi arkhiv, 1927, no. XXII, pp. 57-5 8. 21 From his manuscript memoirs in the Columbia Archive, p. 53 . 22 See Krasnyi,arkhiv, I927, no. XXII, pp. 51-53, and L. S. Gaponenko (ed.), Revolyutsionnoe

dvighenie v russkoi armii I917 (M. i968), pp. 38-39. Brusilov's sudden conversion to democratic principles was a source of considerable derision in many generals' memoirs. For a typical instance see E. A. Vertsinsky, God revolyutsii (Tallinn [Reval, Estonia], i929), p. 17.

23 The garbled minutes of the Soviet's first session record their original crude formulation by freshly elected soldiers' deputies (see Igvest,ya Petrogradskago Soveta rabochikh i soldatskikh deputatov, 2 March 1917). They had apparently been rebuffed when they presented the same demands to the Military Commission. Colonel Engelhardt, head of the latter at this time, records that he refused to consider such representations from a group of soldiers, and that. they replied: 'All the better- we'll write our own then!' ('Revolyutsionnye dni', Obshchee delo (Paris), I6 March i92i). The Bolshevik-leaning lawyer N. D. Sokolov was assigned by the Soviet the task of giving them editorial 'assistance, and drew up the succinct document which has entered history. (Besides the well-known account of Sukhanov upon which most secondary works are based, see Aleksei Tarasov-Rodionov, Februarj 1I917 (New York, 193 ), pp. 138-41. Tarasov-Rodionov was a Bolshevik officer who served as a trouble-shooter for the Military Commission in the first few days. See also John R. Boyd, 'The Origins of Order No. i', Soviet Studies, vol. XIX, no. 3 (January I968), pp. 359-72.)

IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY I3



14 THE FEBRUA RY REVOLUTION

and to prevent the re-imposition of authority from above. Most of the other points evinced the soldiers' new sense of full and equal citizen-

ship-the abolition of titles and the humiliating 'thou', and the enjoy- ment of full privileges of citizenship in off-duty hours, including membership of political parties.

Drawn up hastily as a specific response to the confusing situation in the capital, the document was not framed as a permanent reform for the entire army.24 Nevertheless, it was printed in large numbers and distributed along the entire front in a matter of days. Not only did various emissaries see to it that copies reached the trenches but it was sent out over the wires of the General Staff (at whose instance it is not clear) to all army headquarters, where it was often taken for an authentic order of the new regime. General Ruzsky complained to Stavka of its dis-

organizing influence on 4 March; General Kvenitsky on the Western Front and Kolchak, Admiral of the Black Sea Fleet, filed similar reports on 6 and 7 March respectively.25 There was not a single sector of the 2,ooo-mile front which remained unaffected by its influence, although the Northern sectors were more heavily inundated than the rest. Officers noticed immediately how enthusiastically their men followed its prescriptions: soldiers ceased saluting and standing at attention, addressed them as 'Mister Lieutenant' and insisted on the formal 'vj'. Within a matter of days officers were faced with committees which

presented demands, requested explanations, countermanded orders and instituted controls over arms and ammunition. Not infrequently officers were requested to recognize the committee structure by issuing special orders. All attempts by officers to.explain that the Order was unofficial, and in any event applied only to Petrograd, were in vain. The commanding staffs of armies and divisions, although receiving frequent reports on this mushrooming phenomenon were helpless to combat it. After receiving instructions from War Minister Guchkov

24 The 'Order' is addressed only to the 'Garrison of the Petrograd District' and counterposes Soviet authority to the Military Commission rather than to the as yet non-existent Provisional Government; moreover, point 2 calls for the soldiers' deputies to the Petrograd Soviet to appear at the Tauride Palace 'by ten o'clock in the morning on 2 March' (see R. P. Browder and A. F.

Kerensky (eds.), The Russian Provisional Government 1917, Documents, 3 vols. (Stanford, 1961), vol. II, pp. 248-9).

25 See Krasnyi arkhiv, I927, no. XXII, pp. 50, 57, 59. General Selivachev of the Southwestern Front records intercepting a returning soldier with a printed copy on 7 March (ibid., 1925, no. IX, p. IiI) and similar references can be found for widely distributed sectors of the front. See Gaponenko, op. cit., pp. 25-28, and A. L. Sidorov et al. (eds.), Velikaya OktOabr'skaya Sotsialisti- cheskaya Revolyutsiya. Dokumenet i materialy, 6 vols. (M. 1957), vol. I, pp. 613-I4. There is no first- hand account of how it came to be sent out over the wires of the General Staff, but the fact is referred to by General Alekseev in a communication to all army commanders on I March; the

manuscript deposition of General Miller on the Rumanian front (mentioned above) refers specifically to the receipt of a radio-telegram in the first few days of the Revolution addressed 'To all, to all, to all!', as does the deposition of Admiral Kolchak (Arkhiv Russkoi Revolyutsii, 1923, no. X, p. z16). That is was misunderstood by many commanding officers as an order of the new government is asserted by General Lukomsky, who handled the communications of Stavka with all front units (Vospominaniya generala A. S. Lukomskago (Berlin, I922), p. 148).



to abandon the idea of employing force to combat irregularities, General Alekseev could only reply to General Ruzsky's demands for order, with 'there's nothing more I can do'.26 In response to the plea of the new head of the Military Commission, General Potapov, the Soviet issued on 5 March an 'Order No. z' to clarify Order No. i. It pointed out that Order No. i did not sanction the election of officers, as was widely assumed, nor did it justify interference in purely military orders; however, it practically nullified the impression of these disclaimers by declaring that all elections of officers up to this point remained in force and that the principle of election would somehow be regulated in the future. Though the function of the committees was declared to be purely 'political' and 'social' and not military, Order No. 2 did repeat the proscription of disarming the garrison, and was silent on the control of weapons by the committees. Potapov had the order sent out over the entire front by radio in the vain hope that it would moderate the worst effects of its predecessor. A few generals tried unsuccessfully to make use of it for counter-propaganda, but very few trench troops ever became aware of its existence.27

The trench soldiers' stubborn indifference to the formal incongruities of Order No. i was not entirely due to ignorance. Some committees endorsed the Order with amendments, while others allowed altered versions to be issued as military orders by their superiors. Many committee members seem to have been bothered by the 'unofficial' status of the Soviet and therefore desired a version emanating from official channels. The fact was that the soldiers acknowledged Order No. i as binding because it legitimized their own understanding of the Revolu- tion. The Bolshevik memorist Knorin was quite accurate in characteriz- ing it as 'that charter of soldiers' liberties which was perfectly understood and appropriated by the soldier masses'.28 Order No. i institutionalized the trench soldier's inner liberation from the yoke of the officer and military discipline. Henceforward, he would obey

26 See Gaponenko, op. cit., pp. 26-27, 557. Some generals used a circular telegram without effect from the right-wing Duma deputy Purishkevich, disingenuously claiming that Order No. i was a pure fabrication and that both Chkheidze and Kerensky denied that it emanated from the Soviet. See ibid., pp. 28, 557, and Velikaja Oktyabr'skaya Sotsialisticheskaya Revolyuftsya, vol. I, pp. 619-20, and Krasnyi arkhiv, no. XII, p. 59.

27 For documents on Order No. 2, see Krasnyi arkhiv, no. XXXVII, pp. 214-19, and Gaponenko, op. cit., pp. 24-25, 27-28.

28 V. Knorin, 1917 god v Belorussii i na Zapadnom fronte (Minsk, 1925), pp. 13-14. The above points can be documented by a number of resolutions, accounts of front deputations arriving in Petrograd and other items reported in the press in the second and third weeks of March (the author has scanned Igvestiya, Delo naroda, Rech', Pravda, Testnik Vremenago Pravitel'stva and Soldat- skoe slovo). Several front deputations made representations directly to the Soviet Executive Com- mittee, the record of which appears in their published proceedings. For example, on 14 March a delegation of the Pskov garrison complained over conflicting orders between the Soviet and the Provisional Government, and demanded to know which was the official government and further clarification of Order No. i. A delegation from Rezhitsa made similar inquiries on the following day, and requested that all orders from the Soviet be countersigned by the Defence Minister

IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY I 5




military orders only to the extent that he 'consciously understood' and

accepted them as consonant with the interests of the Revolution. The sudden disregard for the accepted notions of military discipline

and decorum led many generals and career officers to sombre predic- tions of the imminent death of the Army. Indeed, many signs did point to incipient anarchy-the reported lynchings, the flood of desertions to the rear, the frequent arrest and removal of officers, the chaos on the

railways, the turbulent garrisons, and the helplessness of officers to enforce their orders. However, as far as the front was concerned, such

forebodings were premature. Almost all the lynchings occurred in the rear. The highest number occurred in the Baltic Fleet and the Petrograd garrison: the remainder in other garrisons along the railway network.

Although many threatening situations developed, only the Northern Front reported a significant number of lynchings. Brusilov boasted that not a single instance occurred on his front, and Admiral Kolchak by skilful manoeuvring forestalled excesses in the area of his command.29 Most 'counter-revolutionary' officers were brought to corps and army headquarters under improvised guard, where they were unobtrusively released and sent further to the rear for their own safety. The soldiers were not indiscriminate in removing their superiors, and happily sub- mitted to the leadership of popular and respected commanders. In any event, the committees could serve as watchdogs over suspected officers, and many were left in nominal command. The majority of lower echelon officers soon worked out a modus vivendi with their committees and avoided clashes wherever possible. Higher officers, such as regimental and divisional C.O.'s, usually followed suit, regularizing the committee structure in orders of the day. The degree of discipline varied from unit to unit, but only in a very few did the situation get completely out of hand. There were very few instances in the first few weeks of mass disobedience to orders on troop movements (though of course no major action was taking place anyway). Guchkov. Several delegations requested an 'Order No. 3', to clear up the incongruities of Orders No. i and No. z, apparently with the intention of eliminating 'dual authority', See entries under the dates 7 to 15 March in Protokoly gasedanii Ispolnitel'nogo Komiteta (3 marta-q avgusta 917 g.) (L. 1925), pp. 38, 51 and passim.

29 See A. A. Brusilov, A Soldier's Notebook, 1914-i8 (New York, I930), p. 290, and Krasnyi arkhiv, no. XII, p. 5 7. Official data'on the number of deaths by lynching are available only for the fleet. A report by General Lukomsky put the figure for Kronstadt at 6o, Helsinki at 39, and 6 for the balance of the Baltic Fleet (cited in A. G. Shlyapnikov, Semnadtsat igod, 3 vols. (L. 1923-27), vol. III, p. 137). This estimate is probably conservative inasmuch as a good source (Pepelaev, the government commissar at Kronstadt) informed the Soviet Executive Committee that the number was closer to 00oo (see Protokoly . . .. 37). Although there are half a dozen or so veri- fiable incidents in Petrograd, the total number of lynchings could not have been many more than 20, as the total number of casualties of officers was estimated at 53. (The estimate is that of General Martynov, cited without reference by S. L. Melgunov in Martovskie dni 197 goda (Paris, 196 ), p. 75.) The only documented instances elsewhere have already been cited in footnote 18. In all the numerous memoirs, diaries and other accounts, the author has not come across a single instance of a lynching at the front lines in the first few weeks of March.

i6



Desertions were perhaps the most threatening form of disorganiza- tion in the few weeks after the Revolution. Thousands upon thousands jammed the trains moving to the rear, some hanging on by their

fingertips to the roofs and exterior protuberances. Station-masters and

signalmen were frequently threatened with bayonets for holding up trains or refusing to add extra carriages. The breakdowns due to over-

loading and interference with dispatching threatened complete chaos. The cities in the rear teemed with unattached soldiers, who bullied civilians, foraged at will, and reacted violently to any attempt to take them into custody. Serious as this problem was, it was not on the same

plane as the mass desertions during the June offensive and later on in October and November. Although the strain on the railways was great -at one time it was estimated that a thousand deserters per day were

being intercepted at the Kiev railway station-the overall incidence per military unit was not so alarming and was fairly evenly distributed. The Chief Quartermaster of the Army, General Lukomsky, was quoted in the press as pegging the ratio at 5 to 7 per division per day, which would amount to about 150-200 men a month (between i% and 2%) or around ioo,ooo to 15 o,0oo from an army of seven and a half millions.30 He ascribed the high incidence to the widespread rumours of the

impending division of the land, which peasant soldiers were so willing to believe. Also, many soldiers were stirred up by horrifying stories that the landowners were burning villages and grabbing peasant lands to forestall the action of the government. Many of these deserters, when they became better informed about events and had seen their families alive and well, returned voluntarily to their units. In March few villages wilfully harboured deserters. Efforts were made by local authorities, often with the cooperation of local Soviets and garrison troops, to round up deserters and facilitate their return to their units. A flurry of resolutions by various military units appeared in the press in the latter half of March to the effect that soldiers who did not return by such and such a date would be declared 'adherents of the old regime'. The government on its part declared an amnesty for those who returned by 15 April, and eventually the problem became manageable. The mood of the front in March, in spite of the expectations of peace, was still 'patriotic'; to 'open the front to the enemy' by deserting was regarded as a betrayal of the Revolution and countless resolutions in this sense were passed.31

It required only a few days of the disorders described above for the chain of command to become aware that measures of repression were

30 Cited in Soldatskoe slovo, 2 April 1917. 31 Most of the information in this paragraph has been culled from newspapers for the latter half

of March, which abound in specific references. About a dozen or so of the resolutions condemning deserters appeared in Igvestiya between 5 and 30 March.





out of the question. With few exceptions officers sought to assure their men that they 'accepted' the Revolution and would only execute the orders of the Provisional Government. But even where officers had worked out relatively good relations with their men, they felt the need to have their authority backed up by representatives of the new government who could explain to their men the necessity of continuing the war and maintaining military discipline. The idea of sending 'commissars' to the front arose simultaneously at the front, in the Soviet, and in the government. The very nature of the situation demanded it. Many lower echelon officers made this plea to their superiors, who needed no persuasion to pass it on. General Dragomirov of the 5th Army on the Dvinsk sector forwarded such a request to General Ruzsky on 5 March, and the latter forwarded it by telegraph to Petro- grad the next day.32 Ruzsky was apparently so desperate to restore some semblance of order that he simultaneously sent his personal adjutant to Petrograd to contact the Soviet to persuade them to rescind or at least qualify Order No. i. In addition he requested from them 'a deputation of well-known public figures to bring about some sort of tranquillity in the Army'.33 Ruzsky apparently felt that the authority of the Soviet might count for more among his men than that of the Provisional Government. Far more frequently, however, the requests were specifically for representatives of the new government. In point of fact, all but a small handful of the most ardently reactionary officers and generals looked to the new government for the restoration of order in the Army and the continuation of the war. Therefore, they did not hesitate to appeal to its authority, sometimes cautiously praising the accomplishments of the Revolution, but never failing to stress the importance of discipline in defending the homeland against the enemy.

The Provisional Government promptly despatched Duma representatives to various trouble spots, such as the garrison and port cities, the railway centres and, subsequently, the respective fronts. Many ugly situations, notably the massive mutiny in the Baltic Fleet, were quickly transformed by the arrival of Duma deputies into moving celebrations of the triumph of the Revolution. In Helsinki, for example, the chaotic excesses of the first few days abruptly ceased with the arrival of the Duma deputies Skobelev and Rodichev (Skobelev representing the Soviet as well). The sailors and soldiers turned out in full parade dress and model order with their officers (many freshly elected) to honour the arrival of the emissaries of the Revolution. Speeches and solemn vows of loyalty to the new regime were exchanged by admirals,

32 See Velikaya Oktyabr'skaya Sotsialisticheskaya Revolystsiya . . .vol. I, pp. 6I4-I5, and Gapo- nenko, op. cit., p. 27.

33 Protokoy ... pp. 20-2 i. For the Soviet decision on commissars and reports on their activities, see ibid., pp. 3 5-3 8, 45, 5 3, 5 5 if. and passim.

8



generals, soldiers' deputies, workers and sailors, following which visitations were made to the ships to negotiate the release of arrested officers and regularize the newly formed committees. Relations were then normalized between the military, the Soviet of the port, the Finnish Sejm, and organs of the central government, following the Petrograd model as far as possible. Such visitations usually ended in solemn vows to maintain discipline and to fight to the last drop of blood to defend the Revolution from enemies within and without. Generals or officials who baulked at proclaiming their allegiance to the new order could be removed by an exchange of telegrams with the capital, but the majority of them blessed the Duma deputies for their restoration of some semblance of order (actually the worst reactionaries in military and civilian posts in the population centres had been removed by revolutionary action prior to the arrival of the Duma representatives and more adaptable persons had taken their place).34

In a number of cities in the immediate rear of the front, such as Pskov, Dvinsk, Minsk and Iamenets-Podolsk, triumphal celebrations were arranged by local revolutionary groups with the full cooperation of the generals. General Boldyrev, Ruzsky's Quartermaster, boldly faced an ugly crowd of soldiers in Pskov, which had been aroused by the efforts of the local garrison commander to order them out without arms; Boldyrev invited them to return to the main square the next day for an armed demonstration in favour of the new government. It was a solemn occasion with red banners decorating the buildings, martial music, speeches, sentimental professions of harmony between officers, troops, workers and public organizations. Ruzsky himself addressed a few words of paternal exhortation to his troops in a patriotic vein.35 Even the stodgy monarchist General Everts, commander of the Western Front, addressed a massive celebration on 6 March, organized by the Minsk Soviet and presided over by Bolshevik-leaning Inter- nationalists; according to the report in ITvestiya there was not a single sour note to disturb the impression of universal harmony.36

The Duma representatives assigned to the Northern Front, Yanush- kevich and Filonenko, whose detailed record has been published, were enthusiastically received at every railway station along the way to the front headquarters; even in the middle of the night great crowds were on hand.37 They were quickly able to determine the sore spots and to take appropriate steps. Ruzsky, for example, was persuaded to abolish

34 For the most detailed account of events in Helsinki, see Igvestiya, 8 March 1917. Issues of this and the following days carry similar accounts for Minsk, Kazan, Kiev and other garrison cities.

35 See Boldyrev's diary entry for 5 March in Krasnyi arkhiv, 1927, no. XXIII, pp. 25 7-9. 36 See issue for 8 March. 37 Their full report is given in Kakurin and Yakovlev, op. cit., pp. 43-50. It is the only published

commissar's report for the month of March and therefore of very great interest.

IN THE R USSIAN ARMY I 9




saluting on the street in violation of directives from Supreme Head- quarters. Portraits of the tsar and imperial insignia were removed from headquarters and the draping of red banners tolerated. The Duma

deputies met separately with elected representatives of the soldiers to answer questions and give authentic instructions from the government on this or that point. Swearing the oath, the fate of arrested officers, saluting, red arm-bands and ribbons, and cancellation of leave were the

points most frequently discussed. In addition they were bombarded with general political questions on land distribution, the Constituent Assembly, the dynasty and the war. The soldiers were satisfied on most points, not so much because of the remarks themselves but because of the prestige of the men who made them. The credit of the Duma was still very high. It was the agency which had carried through the Revolution. The role of the Soviet was still very hazily understood. If the new government assured them that the war must be continued and that the land question would be resolved in due time by the Constituent

Assembly, that was good enough for them (at least for the time being). From the rear garrisons the deputies separated, each travelling along

a sector of the front, trying to anticipate and settle trouble. Many junior officers were instructed on how to establish workable relations with their men. In general, the deputies carried away the impression that the front soldiers were in good spirits and far more willing to sub- mit to discipline of the right sort than their counterparts in the rear. Some units were found in fully disciplined order under popular officers, and many others expressed a willingness to obey orders if counter- revolutionary officers were removed. Not infrequently officers themselves suggested the removal of certain fellow-officers in order to restore the confidence of the soldiers. But the chief advantage of the presence of the Duma representative was that he could act as a broker between the agitated, suspicious rank-and-file and the confused, apolitical and

inexperienced subaltern. By virtue of his authority as a genuine representative of the government, he was able to persuade the men of the need, in the interests of freedom, to maintain discipline, to pursue the war, and to expect the resolution of political questions by the Duma. The officers were enjoined to accept the innovations gracefully, especially the formation of committees, and to do all in their power to earn the respect and confidence of their men. There were many scenes of sentimental reconciliation and professions of common devotion to the new order. Those who were unhappy with the new scheme of things conformed outwardly and kept their thoughts to themselves. It was not unusual for yesterday's ardent monarchists to resort to unbridled

demagogy to outbid their colleagues in popularity or to secure election to regimental and divisional committees.

20



In any event, a strong swing towards stabilization took place in mid- March as the result of the Duma visitations and the conversion of important persons in the military hierarchy to the policy of accommoda- tion. General Radko-Dmitriev, commander of the i th Army covering the Baltic provinces, authorized the assembling of officer and soldier delegates in Riga. This resulted in the establishment of a firm hierarchy of front committees from the company level up to an army-wide committee dominated by prewar intelligentsia officers (mainly Men- sheviks and SRs).38 The raw, politically ignorant trench delegates carried back to their comrades fabulous impressions of a city decorated with red banners, moving perorations, free discussion of political questions, and the uninhibited evolution of committee government under the protection of the Army command itself. By the end of the month the First and Fifth armies of the Northern Front had worked out similar arrangements. The temper of this new breed of front committee members was ardently democratic, tinged heavily with social- ism, but at the same time pro-war and strongly for the maintenance of military discipline.

Other fronts seem to have moved more slowly, roughly at a speed in direct proportion to their distance from the capital. But they all moved in the same direction. On the Western Front the task of forming committees was undertaken by the Minsk Soviet with no resistance from the military authorities. It was capped by a Front Congress in Minsk during the second week in April. General Brusilov on the South- western Front tolerated the formation of divisional and army committees, and several armies under his command issued general orders on committees by the third week in March. General Kaledin of the Eighth Army apparently strongly opposed the general trend and complained to Supreme Headquarters against Brusilov; he was advised through a

private letter from General Lukomsky that the formation of elective committees would be 'useful' in the restoration of discipline.39 General Sakharov successfully resisted the formation of committees on the Rumanian front till the end of March, capitalizing on its remoteness from central Russia, but in April it rapidly caught up with the other fronts. Even the obdurate Alekseev, who earlier had predicted doom if the existing structure of the army were tampered with, was by i1 March prepared to form advisory committees attached to different armies consisting of representatives of officers, soldiers and civilian political

38 A vivid account of this conference-is given by Chemodanov, op. cit., p. 74 ff. Chemodanov was one of the officer representatives of his front regiment and later very active in the regimental committee. At the front, officers were quite frequently elected to the soldiers' committees, sometimes by their men, at other times by fellow officers on a fixed ratio to enlisted men.

39 Cited from archival source by I. I. Mints in Istoriya Velikogo Oktyabrya, 3 vols. (M. 1967- ), vol. I, p. 690. See also Kakurin and Yakovlev, op. cit., p. 58, Krasnyi arkhiv, I925, no. IX, pp. I20--, and Vertsinsky, op. cit., p. 15.




THE FEBRUA R Y REVOLUTION

groupings. The purpose, however, was to have available to commanders an instrument to help secure obedience to their orders. There is no evidence that such institutions ever functioned, although Brusilov seems to have intended to carry out Alekseev's plan.40 In general, attempts to organize committees from above which would be under the influence of the officers (the parity principle was often proposed) usually resulted in stimulating the formation of articulately democratic committees from below. General Vertsinsky, attached to the staff of the

8th Army Corps of Kaledin's 8th Army, relates how the convoking of what was intended to be a purely informational assembly of regimental representatives got out of hand and 'turned into a political meeting'. After three days of bitter wrangling, an order instituting committees along the lines demanded by the soldiers was issued by General Zaionchkovsky, the Corps commander. General Vertsinsky remarked that 'although the conference undoubtedly hastened the

revolutionizing of the corps, at the same time by introducing inevitable

changes in the life of the corps, it helped to prevent the wild excesses which took place elsewhere'.41

Thus, by the end of March the committee structure from company to army level was virtually complete and enjoyed the active or passive cooperation of the unit commanders. 'Dual Power' became a universal fact of life in Russia, cutting across every level and species of authority. From the discussion so far, however, it is clear that the authority of the army command was shattered, and probably irreparably so, but it is not so clear that the Provisional Government could not have become the

revolutionary authority which the committees would obey. In the first few weeks the Provisional Government and its representatives still

enjoyed tremendous prestige at the front and commanded the attention of the soldiers far more than did the Soviet. By the second week in

April this situation was reversed and the Soviet emerged as the sole authoritative organ for the 'revolutionary democracy' at the front as well as at the rear, while a pall of suspicion hung over the 'bourgeois' Provisional Government. To explain this dramatic transition requires a study in itself, which the author hopes to undertake at some future date. Suffice it to say that, given the basic issues agitating the largely peasant and worker trench soldiers at the front, it was almost inevitable that they should gravitate towards the Soviet. The educated and propertied elements which composed the Duma circles, from which the Provisional Government was formed, were emotionally far more com- mitted to the successful prosecution of the war and the maintenance of

40 Alekseev outlined this idea in a telephone conversation with Premier Lvov, stating that his army commanders were all being queried on the matter. See Krasnyi arkhiv, 1927, no. XXII, p. 69, and Velikaya Oktyabr'skaya Sotsialisticheskqya Revolyutsiya . . ., vol. I, pp. 628-9.

41 Vertsinsky, op. cit., p. I 5.

22



Russia's status as a great power than they were to radical social and political change (this was even true of elements of the intelligentsia represented by Kerensky and the newspaper Russkaya volya). The social classes which made up the Soviet were very similar to those which made up the army. It was led by socialist intellectuals who articulated the radical goals which the masses expected of the Revolution, and in this it enjoyed an enormous advantage over the Provisional Government. A blunder like Milyukov's note to the Allies of i8 April (assuring them of Russia's faithfulness to the secret treaties) was guaranteed to effect a shift in loyalty, but it was only the final episode of this drama. This process had very little to do with Bolshevik propaganda (arriving on 4 April, Lenin needed some weeks to re-orient his own followers), but a good deal to do with agitation in the 'bourgeois' press over the workers' slackness in war production, the irresponsible power of the Soviet, and the breakdown of discipline in the army during the last week in March. It was this clamour transmitted to the front by monarchist and Kadet-oriented officers which backfired, arousing, instead of the hoped-for well of patriotism, deep-seated anxieties about the class character of the Provisional Government. On the other hand, the Soviet Manifesto to the Peoples of the World aroused great hopes for peace without the necessity of costly offensive operations. The right-wing officers, the patriotic press, and such government figures as Rodzianko, Milyukov and Guchkov completed the process of alienation by harping on the slogan 'war to a victorious end in full cooperation with the Allies', regardless of the secret treaties, capitalist governments with imperialist aims, etc. Such obtuseness condemned the first cabinet of the Provisional Government to death in advance, as well as any other cabinet which allowed itself to fall into the trap of seeming to pursue the same policies, whether socialists and Soviet leaders were represented in it or not. Therein the Bolsheviks found their opportunity.

State University of New York at Stony Brook


