Dmitri Horvat, formerly head of the Chinese-Eastern Railway, was the virtually powerless governor-general of the Far East. In March 1919, he was replaced by Gen. S. N. Rozanov, a Cossack who turned out to be as much a barbarian as Kalmykof and Semenov. Rozanov’s first order when he replaced Horvat was, if his men could not find partisan leaders, “then shoot one out of every ten of the people.” If his troops entered a town and failed to find enemy leaders, “a monetary contribution should be demanded of all, unsparingly. The villages where the population meet our troops with arms, should be burned down and all the full grown male population should be shot; property, homes, carts, etc. should be taken for use of the Army.”34 These were Russians committing these outrages on fellow Russians.
Other tyrants gained power at that time in the Far East. In October 1918, General Ivanoff-Rinoff, formerly a Tsarist official, appeared in eastern Siberia and was put in command of all White Russian troops in the area. One of his first mandates was to declare martial law in Amur, Primorskaya, Sakhalin, and Kamchatka, an area that reached virtually from Korea north to Alaska, including the islands off the coast.35
As the winter wore on, tension increased among Allies. The Japanese had greatly expanded both their area of occupation and their troop strength. In an October memorandum to the adjutant general in Washington, Graves stated that there were then sixty thousand Japanese troops in eastern Russia and China, far exceeding the seven thousand limit agreed on prior to the Intervention.36 Actually, at one point the Japanese had seventy-two thousand men in the area.37 American intelligence reported that Japanese troops had garrisoned the mouth of the Golden Horn Bay in the villages of Posyet and Slavyansk on the Korean border. They had also sent troops as far north as Nikolaevsk na Amur at the mouth of the Amur River on the Sea of Okhotsk.38 This was in violation of the original outline of territories.
By mid-winter 1918–1919, the Kolchak government was relying heavily on the two Cossack bands of Ivan Kalmykof in the Ussuri region and Gregorii Semenov in the Baikal area. According to Graves, Kalmykof “was the worst scoundrel I ever saw or heard of and I seriously doubt, if one should go entirely through the Standard Dictionary, looking for words descriptive of crime, if a crime could be found that Kalmikoff had not committed.” About Semenov Graves said, “Kalmikoff murdered with his own hands, where Semenov ordered others to kill, and therein lies the difference between Kalmikoff and Semenov.”39 The actions of these two evil forces caused the people of Russia to turn against Kolchak and his armies as they raped, plundered, and murdered their way across Siberia.
As early as October 1918, the U.S. troops in Spasskoye reported various minor disagreements with the Japanese over use of water, latrines, loitering, and general misbehavior of Japanese troops in the Spasskoye compound. The Americans took over various buildings and supplies from the British as the British moved west, but the Japanese also claimed them. The U.S. Spasskoye commander sent a detailed report of his grievances both to the Japanese officer at Spasskoye and Colonel Sargent, which brought a rather tart response from the American colonel: “I am not at all surprised that the answer to the attached letter was more or less insolent in tone, as your letter to the Japanese Commanding Officer was anything but diplomatic.” He went on to caution that Japanese were Allies with different customs and habits, so be nice to them.40
Other incidents were disconcerting. On November 3, 1918, Pfc. Frank Werkstein and Sgt. Frank Baelski were traveling from Khabarovsk to Vladivostok by rail. The train stopped in the village of Viasimskaya and Werkstein got off, only to be surrounded by Japanese soldiers, one officer, and a civilian. There was much shouting, gesturing, and prodding with the Japanese bayonets. Minutes later, Sergeant Baelski got off the train, and the Japanese turned their attention to him. The civilian had told the soldiers that he had been struck by an American soldier and pointed out Baelski. The Japanese officer ordered Baelski held and told the civilian to hit Baelski in the face, after which he was released and reboarded the train. He reported the incident; when word of the episode reached Graves, he immediately advised General Otani of the seriousness of the occurrence. Otani performed his own investigation and wrote Graves, “it was confirmed that what really happened was, to my hearty regret, evidently the same as was stated in your note, and I earnestly desire that the most cordial friendship which has long been existing between the two countries will not be affected by this occurrence.” He told Graves the officer responsible had been relieved of his command and sent back to his regiment.41
However, by January the tone of Japanese replies had changed. Sgt. Ignacio Borda was harassed by Japanese soldiers on an American car on the same railroad. The Japanese took Borda’s pistol while pointing their rifles at him and took over the car. When he arrived at Khabarovsk and the Japanese had left, Borda learned that several U.S. Army items were missing. He reported the loss, but no action was taken by the Japanese, “as it was considered unworthy to be discussed about specially, being a trifling matter.” Further, they stated that they knew nothing of the missing items, which were the responsibility of Sergeant Borda.42
There were other incidents involving the two Allies, and the doughboys were increasingly appalled at the Japanese soldiers’ treatment of the area peasants. Lieutenant Kindall wrote of one of the most extreme examples of Japanese outrages. Late on a Saturday night, Russian men were celebrating the week’s end with the usual vodka and song. A Japanese patrol raided the vodka house and seized three men and two boys. Bound with rice straw ropes, they were taken to the Japanese camp at Sviyagino and pushed into boxcars. The next day they were marched down the railroad tracks to five shallow graves and forced to kneel by the graves. The executioner, a Japanese officer, proceeded to measure the saber he carried and its distance from the condemned man’s neck. All things being in order:
[T]he Japanese officer hopped into the air with both feet, gave an odious grunt, and brought down the keen blade through the neck. As the body tumbled forward into the dirt and squirmed about the shallow grave, the Japanese standing alongside jeered at it and prodded it with their bayonets.43
The stunned Russians and two American officers who were there could never again believe that the Allies were there to help Russians. The Russian countryside was being ravaged by their own countrymen, the Cossacks, and the uncontrollable Japanese. Americans often witnessed bestial behavior toward Russians, but under their strict orders they were not to interfere. In the minds of many, it was a determined effort to force the Americans into confrontations and eventually drive them from Siberia, leaving the Far East solely in Japanese hands.
As the winter wore on, the bitter cold kept activity to a minimum, yet more atrocities were reported as the Cossacks and Japanese continued their incursions. Even Graves could not believe the degree of brutality that was being reported to him. In March 1919, he sent one of his officers to verify the story of a young woman who had come to American headquarters to ask for protection. The American officer who went to Gordievka reported:
The first woman interviewed said her husband was on his way to the school house with his rifle to turn it in to the Russian Troops as ordered. He was seized on the street, beaten on the head and body with his rifle, and then taken to a house a short distance from the school where he was stretched by the neck to a pin in the rafter, his hands tied, and terribly beaten about the body and head until the blood was splashed even on the walls of the room, and the marks on the body showed me that he had been hung by his feet also.
He was later stood in a row, with eight other men, and shot to death at 2 P.M. There were ten men in line and all were killed but one, he being left for dead by Ivanoff-Rinoff’s troops.44
Other details in the officer’s report shocked Graves so much he asked the young officer to report to him. Graves said:
I always remember the remark this officer made to me after I had questioned him. His remark was: “General, for God’s sake, never send me on an expedition like this. I came within an ace of pulling off my
uniform, joining these poor people, and helping them as best I could.”45
Not only the Russian peasants felt the pressure of White Russian troops, but American senior officers as well. Newly promoted Lt. Col. Robert Eichelberger, head of intelligence for the AEFS, was sent on an assignment into the Suchan Mine area in the spring of 1919, hoping to meet with partisan leaders and dissuade them from attacking American guards in the area. Frequent reports from the American Mine Guard commander, Col. Gideon Williams, and Maj. Emile Cutrer in Shkotova indicated that the partisans were getting more aggressive, firing into trains and raiding the smaller villages. There also was the unpleasant news that the White Army was recruiting in the area, using its brutal tactics.
Eichelberger took the train and cable car, passed through the mine area, and entered the town of Pyratino near the Suchan River. As he walked in with Lt. O. P. Winningstad and a sergeant, he discovered that the Whites had started burning the town and killing the villagers as part of their recruiting methods. The partisans were holding out against the Whites as Eichelberger, “being young and enthusiastic,” decided to try to mediate a peace. Under terms of the Allies, White Russians were not allowed in that area, which made the young colonel’s job difficult. Colonel Rubetz, commanding the Russian White unit, arrested Eichelberger and his aides. Rubetz was convinced that the American was leading the Bolshevik resistance. Eichelberger and Winningstad were put in the schoolhouse under guard.
As local peasants ran to the American mine headquarters and reported Eichelberger’s danger, Colonel Williams, the Mine Guard commander, was in a quandary whether to try to rescue him or not. Eichelberger wrote his wife, “Then the Bolsh general went to [American Lieutenant] Rumans and reported that we were confined in the schoolhouse and were to be shot. He [the Bolshevik general] volunteered to go to Pyratin to rescue me.”46
The next morning the Whites disappeared and the two Americans walked back to more friendly territory, meeting a rescue party that had finally been sent by Colonel Williams.47
Back in Vladivostok, the Americans were finding that life at times could be very pleasant, but there were many times when bitterly cold weather, unfriendly Allies, uncertain living conditions, and increasingly hostile locals could make life anything but home-like.
20
Life in Siberia
I don’t think I had better go into any of the details of the various crimes for with the true artistic spirit of the orient, the criminals try to frighten the citizens with their atrocious conduct.
—Capt. Rodney Sprigg
VLADIVOSTOK, the largest city in Siberia, was a haven for refugees from the western part of revolution-torn Russia. Refugees came flooding into Vladivostok daily, swelling the population significantly. The prewar population was estimated at 100,000, but an estimated 250,000 more had slipped in by railroad, cart, boat, foot, or litter.1 It was an excellent port; although frozen in during some winter months, a channel was kept clear from the port entrance to the docks by great, hulking icebreakers.2
In the city, local trams were suffocatingly crowded; little horse-drawn carts called droskies trotted along the waterfront, and marching troops often filled the streets. The city resembled San Francisco in topography, rising virtually from the banks of Golden Horn Bay to hills dotted with houses, shacks, and buildings of all sorts. The main street, Svetlanskaya Street, was lined with impressive homes and buildings belonging to wealthy merchants and businessmen. It could have been a beautiful city, but it held little beauty for arriving Americans. In December, one young soldier wrote a friend that he was enjoying new sights and was impressed by Vladivostok’s downtown area, but once he left the center, he did not find much to like. “The houses are mean, one-story, stucco structures, the pavements are rotten boards, full of gaps and holes, dangerous to walk upon. The streets are either roughly cobbled or unpaved and full of mud, and cows and pigs and dogs and goats run around in happy confusion.”3 He added in his letter a description of his brief stopover in Japan: “The Japanese on his own soil is a much more attractive person than he is abroad.”
Most of the comments about the city mentioned the stench: rotting garbage, human and animal filth, fish, and sewage seemed to blend into an unforgettable stink. Refugees slept where they could, finding shelter in improvised lean-tos, filling every covered space; and still, many slept on doorsteps, hallways, or any other spot available. Fortunately, the doughboys were offered good quarters in barracks by their Russian hosts. In September, the weather in Vladivostok was still warm, and the troops from the Philippines were still in summer uniforms.
Soon after their arrival, Maj. Sam Johnson and his adjutant 1st Lt. Rodney Sprigg located a likely barracks at Fort Churkin at the mouth of the harbor. But before they took over the fort, General Graves summoned them both. He was anxious to have a combat-ready force available in the city for defense should it become necessary. Col. O. P. Robinson had suggested forming a replacement battalion that would always be trained and ready should he need it. Major Johnson was given command of the battalion with Sprigg as his adjutant. So the term replacement battalion actually was not used for replacement troops, but for men trained in the use of automatic weapons and tactics to be ready when needed in the midst of a city in turmoil. Sprigg wrote home, “In the past week we have had two changes of government in the city of Vladivostok, we have had one large fire, and any number of holdups, murders and other miscellaneous goings.”4
Some two months after the replacement battalion was formed, Sam Johnson was selected for an even tougher job: commanding officer of the International Military Police (IMP), formed to combat the civil disturbances and the unrest in the city. This new organization included individually selected men of all nationalities: American, British, French, Italian, Polish, Czechoslovak, Chinese, Lettish, Romanian, and Serbian. “Almost every man in each army wanted to become a member of the IMP but size was important. You had to be big.”5
The international patrols were highly effective in a city known for its lawlessness and crime. Lieutenant Sprigg wrote to his wife, “Twenty four hours never pass without the report of at least two or three violent deaths. . . . So far they have been Czecho-Slovaks or Japs, Thank goodness, but there’s no telling when some good natured assassin decides to bump off one or two of our men.” Sprigg added a thoughtful note, “I don’t think I had better go into any of the details of the various crimes for with the true artistic spirit of the orient, the criminals try to frighten the citizens with their atrocious conduct.”6
The men of the IMP had beautiful uniforms but dirty jobs, yet they maintained a sterling record during the expedition’s stay in the Far East. Johnson became the expedition’s most highly decorated member by the end of the campaign for his work with the IMP and for his part in a rescue during a later Vladivostok uprising. The IMP’s role was not without cost; it sustained fifty-one casualties in its brief existence. In 1919, the IMP reports that it assisted the Russians in 851 cases and handled 3,532 Allied cases, almost 10 per day.7
The AEF troops found they had little to do in the fall and winter months. A few units were sent out on various missions, but the majority of American soldiers were housed in reasonably comfortable barracks in either Khabarovsk or Vladivostok. Company M of the Thirty-first Infantry had joined a Japanese company and a Russian company assigned to guard the Suchan Mine area, under command of Lt. Col. Sylvester Loring. Companies F and G were housed in Spasskoye on the railroad. In November 1918 the Twenty-seventh Infantry, First Battalion moved down from Khabarovsk to Spasskoye to join the Thirty-first Infantry units and a small Russian and Japanese garrison. Lonely units from Company B were housed in far-off Harbin, China, on the Chinese-Eastern Railroad.
Snow came in October, and while it was welcome at first, the novelty wore off as it grew deeper and heavier. By November 1, Golden Horn Bay had a thick coating of ice. Sprigg’s fort was across the bay from the city; he could walk across the ice when the wind wasn’t blowing, but when the winds blew, and the gusts dealt
body blows to walkers, it was impossible to cross the bay. “The cold here is of a peculiar dry, penetrating sort. Any exposed part suffers. For instance I can sit with my feet in the stove and they will get quite warm while my hands a few feet away are stiff with cold, and yet not once have I suffered with my body being cold.”8 January 1, 1919, recorded one of the worst snowstorms of recent years. It became so severe that the commander of the guard of Company C in Vladivostok pulled in all his guards, afraid they might become disoriented. Instead, he sent out patrols every half hour to keep watch.9 In various sections of the American military territory, temperatures were reported as being consistently 30 degrees below zero.
The men from Camp Fremont were supplied with adequate cold weather gear before they left California; the others received their winter clothing before the bitter cold set in. The staple garment for the outdoors was a sheepskin-lined greatcoat that kept out the frigid weather. They wore woolen uniforms topped off with fur hats, with lumbermen’s socks in place of leggings. Some had regular field boots, while others preferred moccasins. But there was no sign of the Shackleton boot. They were also issued parkas, shoe packs, heavy olive-drab underwear, and fur mittens, all of which were in sufficient supply throughout the campaign.10 Private Reynolds of the 146th Ordnance Depot Company wrote that with the winter clothing they were issued and the reasonably comfortable barracks they lived in, “On the score of creature comforts . . . we don’t deserve much sympathy.”11
As the cold set in, tempers began to fray, even among the senior officers. Colonel Robinson, Graves’s chief of staff, assigned Capt. Kenneth Roberts to go to Khabarovsk on an intelligence mission. Colonel Barrows, head of intelligence, objected. Roberts described their shouting match: “The resulting scene between Barrows and Robinson was both embarrassing and ludicrous; for those two full-grown, dignified officers screamed at each other like Italian ditch diggers.”12 Captain Roberts noted that between Thanksgiving and January (1919), “most of the participants in the Siberian Expeditionary Force seemed semi insane with cold, idleness and the depression that accompanies these two curses.”13 Roberts solved his depression by writing as much as he could; others slept, wrote letters, sang the old songs, badgered each other, and tried to cope. Sometimes, though, the boredom got to them:
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