Russian Sideshow

by Robert L Willett

  As the American forces began their placement of troops in the Siberian intervention, and the rugged Czech legionnaires struggled toward their eastern goal of Vladivostok, they were completely dependent on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, as was another group of volunteers. This group was unique in its expertise; its members were experienced railroad men, recruited from the northern states to try to salvage the Russian rail system that to all intents and purposes had collapsed. Theirs was a frustrating and disappointing chore that kept them ever in confrontation with the elements, the government, the workers, and even the Allies. They were the members of the Russian Railway Service Corps (RRSC).

  When Tsar Nicholas II abdicated in March 1917, President Wilson felt relieved that the only monarchy in the Allied camp had become a democratic government, easing Wilson’s concerns about supporting the autocratic tsar and his repressive regime. It was only one month later that the United States entered the war on the side of the Allies. It was still hoped that Russia would remain in the war; however, the condition of the railroads, particularly the Trans-Siberian, was so bad that virtually no supplies could be shipped from Vladivostok to the eastern front. The conditions that existed during those spring months were chaotic; Wilson failed to realize that the provisional government of Luvov and Kerensky, although given the authority to rule, lacked the power to do so.

  Hoping that improvements in the railroad systems would be of some encouragement to the Russians, Wilson approved sending a team of U.S. railroad executives to determine the conditions of the railways. They were to meet with Russian railroad officials, review the roadways and make their recommendations to the new Russian provisional government. The Commission, known as the Advisory Railroad Commission to Russia, was selected by a number of railroad experts, and appointed by Secretary of State Robert Lansing, who gave them diplomatic status, important for the Commission members in their travels. The five members were John F. Stevens, Chairman; W. L. Darling, maintenance expert; John Greiner, bridges and structures; Henry Miller, transportation coordinator; and George Gibbs, equipment.

  The hastily assembled group met in Chicago and on May 8, 1917, boarded a special train for Vancouver, then went by ship to Yokohama, arriving in Vladivostok on May 31, where they were immediately put to work.

  On July 23, 1917, the Commission presented their recommendations to the Russian Railway Ministry, suggesting that the railroads be broken down into smaller operating units, with the United States providing some instructors. The Commission also pledged aid in the form of rolling stock, fifteen hundred railroad engines, and thirty thousand cars of differing types.1 A more important request made by the Kerensky Government, and agreed to by the American Commission, was to provide a group of experienced American railway operators to assist the inept Russian railroaders.

  The Commission visited Prime Minister Kerensky on August 10. George Gibbs was not impressed:

  He appears to be a very active, neurotic, but tired man of about thirty-six; is tall and has a high and fine forehead surmounted by a growth of coarse black hair, a la pompadour. His eyes are fine, but shifty and his nose well proportioned, but his mouth and chin are weak.2

  Gibbs felt that the regime had little future, and subsequent events proved him right. Kerensky did promise that their recommendations would be carried out and had his full approval. With that assurance the Commission members packed their bags, and on August 14, they left for Vladivostok; they returned to the United States, leaving John Stevens to work with the Russian government.

  The Commission arrived in San Francisco on October 5, 1917; within the month the Bolsheviks had gained control of the government, and swept Kerensky from power. Because of the change of government the Commission’s recommendations were forgotten, except for the promised cadre of railway workers.

  John Stevens remained in Russia to help carry out the recommendations of the American Commission, and was caught in the revolution. Meanwhile, his organization was being formed in the states as a quasi-military organization. This group, called the Russian Railway Service Corps, or RRSC, was actually the first echelon of the American Intervention.

  The railroads were one of the critical elements of the Russian civil war that swept the troubled nation in the latter days of 1917. The Trans-Siberian Railroad, as the primary railroad of the country, was a fragile link between European Russia and the virtually undeveloped, but resource-rich, eastern Russia. The route between Murmansk and Petrograd, recently completed across the spongy tundra of North Russia, had just begun to move Allied supplies to the eastern front when the October-November 1917 revolution closed it.3 The Archangel-Vologda Railroad joined the Trans-Siberian Road at Vologda, but in October 1917 that, too, was shut down.

  Whether the Allies or President Wilson realized the importance of the chaotic railways of Russia to the future of the Allied Intervention is subject to debate; however, the creation of the Railway Corps was evidence that there was an awareness. Future use of Russian railroads would not be limited to transportation. Both sides would use the armored trains as weapons; they would be used as housing and hospitals for Allied and Russian troops, as well as refugees; and they would be a battleground for the Czech Legion.

  The Russians realized the importance of the railroads when Prime Minister Kerensky sought American help with the Advisory Railroad Commission in mid-1917. Russia agreed to pay expenses for the RRSC technicians, and in the United States the call went out for volunteers. Most of the recruiting was done in the northern states, as the volunteers would be subject to severe Siberian winters. Even the commander, Col. George Emerson, came from the north; he most recently had been general manager of the Great Northern Railroad. In October the recruiting efforts peaked, and before long, the ranks were filled. The literature read, in part, “He [Emerson] will take with him twelve complete division organizations of train dispatchers, trainmasters, traveling engineers, line repairmen, foundry, boiler, machine, engineer erecting, round-house foremen, mechanical Supts. And master mechanics. 206 in all are to go Oct. 25 from Pacific Port.”4 Actually, about three hundred men eventually went as RRSC volunteers.5 They were promised commissions as Army officers and were furnished uniforms similar to those of the Regular Army troops. They were, however, slightly different in their status. An ID carried by one of the men, Fred E. Brunner, stated, “I certify that Fred Emanuel Brunner is a Civil Agent of the United States detailed for service as 2d Lieut. in the Russian Railway Service Corps and is entitled under the laws of war, if captured, to the privileges of a civil official of the United States.”6 At the time, that designation seemed unimportant; however, later interpretations denied them war veteran status.

  Most of the volunteers reported to RRSC headquarters in St. Paul, Minnesota; they were interviewed by Colonel Emerson personally, examined for any physical defects, and told to put their affairs in order for an immediate departure. On November 11, 1917, at 7:45 P.M., witnessed by their apprehensive families and friends, their train pulled out of St. Paul, bound for San Francisco. En route, the men received Russian-language instruction and even drilled in a few of the train stations when time permitted.

  In San Francisco, they were joined by eighty men from America’s Baldwin Locomotive Company, who would assemble some two thousand locomotives that had been shipped to Russia from the United States and were sitting in crates. They all received the usual overseas shots and uniforms, sent their last letters, and boarded the transport Thomas. One last letter from Peter Copeland closed with the enthusiasm most felt: “Do not worry for me as I am all right and would not be out of the fight for anything.”7 As the ship sailed out of San Francisco on November 19, many were pensive as they all wondered what the future might bring. Many of the railroaders were older men with wives and children, unlike the youth of the armed services. After the first week passed, the ship docked in Honolulu on November 26. Three days along the beach of Waikiki raised the men’s spirits; there was other entertainment at the YMCA and Elks Clubs, and various parties on the i
sland. On November 29, at 1:55 P.M., the Thomas took to the sea again.

  The voyage proved to be a quiet one, with only one scare, when a German raider was reported nearby. But there was real concern about the war news that came in over the ship’s wireless. Porter Turner wrote home from Honolulu on November 27, 1917, “If the Russians sign up for peace it will change our plans considerable. We are all in hopes we go as planned. In case we do not go to Russia sure hope we can go to France.”8 No one knew then, but events were already unfolding in Russia that would alter their future.

  In Petrograd, the Russian capital, the second revolution of 1917 had swept the provisional government from office and the Bolsheviks now ruled. In Vladivostok, nine time zones from Petrograd, there seemed to be no government at all. As the Thomas docked at 11:00 A.M. on December 11, 1917, shoving through the ice in the Golden Horn harbor of Vladivostok, the city was in shambles. All Thomas shore leaves were cancelled as Emerson and the ship’s captain hurried down the gangplank to find Colonel Stevens. The officers finally relented and issued shore passes to the few who showed interest in leaving the safety of the ship. The appearance of three hundred American men in uniform made the city officials nervous; the locals were suspicious and quietly hostile to the few railroaders who left the ship. Stevens and Emerson made the decision to return to Japan, informing Washington by wire: “Impossibility of proceeding with work at the present moment. Danger of harbor freezing makes prompt action imperative. Icebreakers in hands of insurgents. Please arrange quickly for Emerson to have ample credit. . . . I cannot supply him and shore quarters and food in Japan require cash.”9 With an icebreaker leading the way on December 17, the Thomas moved out of Vladivostok and headed for the more friendly port of Nagasaki, Japan.

  The volunteers could not leave the ship until adequate quarters were found in Japan, which took until January 13. After fifty-three days on board, they disembarked in Nagasaki and watched with mixed feelings as the Thomas steamed out of sight on her way back home.10 Here the corps would sit, many for months, waiting for the call to come from Vladivostok to go to work. As January came and went, the Americans switched from learning Russian to learning Japanese, complaining all the while. “Oh, dear, I wish we were on the move somewhere, Russia, Mesopotamia, Berlin, or home, I don’t care which, just as long as we move,” wrote Lt. Fayette Keeler. As the time passed new diversions were found: train trips to nearby towns, YMCA meetings, Japanese bathhouses, and endless days of local sightseeing. For half the corps, their Nagasaki stay would last until June.

  But Colonel Stevens was not idle; he was in Harbin, China, negotiating with Gen. Dmitri Horvat, the Russian governor and general manager of the Chinese-Eastern Railway. Stevens offered the Russian his skilled men to use on the China railroad. Horvat, an anti-Bolshevik, had been able to chase the Bolsheviks out of his Chinese territory with support from Chinese troops. He was being plagued by the actions of Ataman Gregorii Semenov, a fiercely independent anti-Bolshevik Cossack who operated on both sides of the Russian-Manchurian border in the Lake Baikal area. Semenov had offered his protection to Horvat’s railway, but his terms were too steep for Horvat.

  In February 1918, Stevens and Horvat came to terms, and the RRSC was allowed to assume responsibility for the Chinese-Eastern Railway. The Chinese-Eastern route was the original route of the Trans-Siberian, but a second route, north from Vladivostok to Khabarovsk and then west, kept the line entirely in Russian territory. On March 30, Lieutenant Keeler wrote home:

  Washington’s birthday we received the joyful news we were going to go to Harbin Manchuria within a week, and we were to go in bunches of fifty per day. Two bunches went and then they got orders to hold the balance here, much to our bitter disappointment. And here we have been ever since doing nothing.11

  Keeler stayed in Japan, but the situation in the Far East was in such confusion that the RRSC in China was confined to menial duties in and around Harbin. Eventually, Keeler went as one of the next five men sent to Harbin in February. Much later, on August 22, he wrote about the Czechs, who had arrived in Harbin, but repeated his hope for more activity: “Anyway, will risk saying that things are looking brighter for the old R.R.S. Corps and we are coming to life, and every man Jack will soon have something to do. This is a relief to think of it, after being inactive for nine months.”12 Unfortunately, more months would pass with little to do.

  During those spring and summer months of 1918, one expedition did provide excitement for the corps. A telegram from Secretary of State Robert Lansing ordered Stevens to send Colonel Emerson to Vologda, thousands of miles to the west, to confer with American ambassador David Francis. He was to take several engineers and technicians with him and leave at once. A group of seven with one interpreter left Harbin for Vladivostok on May 4. Emerson soon learned his would not be an easy mission. First, the Chinese-Eastern refused him any cars with which to make the trip. In Vladivostok, Adm. Austin Knight, American fleet commander, and American consul John Caldwell told him that the United States had no relations with the Soviet government in Vladivostok, so he would have to deal with them himself. Finally, on May 19, enough cars were made available for Emerson to begin his trip. He had more delays in Khabarovsk, but Emerson’s crew finally arrived in Chita on May 25, one month after Lansing’s order had been received.

  In the next town, Krasnoyarsk, he was met by the stationmaster, who said that an armed confrontation between Czechs and Bolsheviks was imminent at Marinsk, just ahead. Emerson volunteered to mediate between the two parties, which was highly agreeable to the officials in Krasnoyarsk. In their new role as mediators, the RRSC train moved slowly toward Marinsk, with the train engine flying the Stars and Stripes, plus a white flag.13 The Russians wanted the Czechs disarmed; the Czechs wanted to pass through the territory peaceably, keeping their weapons. After some debate it was decided the Czechs were to give up most of their arms, keeping twenty rifles per car for defense. In return, the Russians promised safe passage to Vladivostok. There was much conversation back and forth, but peace, temporary as it was, was established.

  After that diplomatic mission, Emerson “hurried” on toward Vologda, still some two thousand miles away. But before he could move on, Emerson wanted to learn about conditions between his location in Marinsk and Vologda. He decided to go back to Omsk until assurance could be received that it was clear ahead, so the RRSC contingent retreated to Omsk on June 26. To his surprise he found that Maj. Alphonse Guinet, French liaison officer with Czech forces, had issued a statement to Czech and Russian papers that Americans and Allies would intervene at the end of June. That would have been a surprise to President Wilson, who was still wrestling with the question of intervention.

  By late June, Emerson, in conversations with Harris, decided that the confrontations between the White Russians, Czechs, and Bolsheviks had become a full-fledged civil war, not just a series of local uprisings. With the specific instructions from Washington to stay out of internal affairs, it was decided to refrain from any further efforts to mediate between the various factions. He received a message from Harris in Irkutsk telling him that he had verified the French commitment to intervene at the end of June and that the United States would join the French. Based on that information, erroneous as it was, Emerson made up his mind to help the Czechs. Now, he felt free to assist the Czechs on their movement east, in anticipation of the actual intervention.14 Emerson never did reach Vologda, nor did he confer with Ambassador Francis; he remained with Czech forces in the Gaida command, waiting for a chance to take his party back to Harbin.

  In July Gaida’s objective was the capture of Irkutsk, an area that kept him from linking up with the eastern Czech forces in Vladivostok, either across Manchuria or through the northern route to Khabarovsk. The Bolsheviks had fortified Irkutsk, and desperately needed to stop Gaida. Gaida’s forces had blown up one of the Red trains loaded with explosives, but the Reds managed to blow the last tunnel of the thirty-nine that ran through the hills and cliffs east of the city, totall
y blocking the tunnel. With the help of Emerson’s group, the way was cleared for the Czechs by August 17.

  The Bolsheviks were now in full retreat, blowing bridges, tearing up track, and using other delaying tactics, but Emerson and his team led the repair efforts as they moved through Verkhne-Udinsk, Chita and into Karenskaya. The Siberian Sojourn stated, “So it went, mile after mile, with one interruption after another. Wrecked cars were found. Tracks were badly torn up. The tracks, of course, had to be repaired.”15 Near Karenskaya, the Czechs finally met Semenov’s Cossacks, many riding on the Czech trains into the city, where the new troops were met with cheers and with delegations welcoming them. Emerson’s trip was nearing an end. Czechs from the Third Regiment had been working westward from Vladivostok; the eastern and western Czechs finally met just east of Adrianovka. The report from them was that the Trans-Siberian Railroad was clear from Vladivostok to the Urals.16

  The Czech Legion had accomplished a minor miracle in their eastward journey: fighting, governing, repairing, and surviving in the unfriendly confines of Siberia. It was probably the high point of the Czech Legion’s career. Their future from then on would be full of trouble and conflict, from within and without.

  Emerson earned high praise from General Graves:

  He [Emerson] is a man whose language, whose appearance, and whose general attitude towards the duty in hand inspires one with confidence in his integrity of purpose, and the longer one knows him and his work, the greater this confidence becomes.