With the two rubles he was able to buy enough to eat for the next three days: three loaves of black bread, a small daily bowl of salad, and a glass of hot tea with each meal. Then Mikhail’s small student stipend arrived from the government. Mikhail was very thankful that Uncle Andre made him take the money and he never forgot it.
Mikhail’s financial situation forced a decision upon the young man. Mikhail journeyed southeast to the city of Tambov, located far from the Russian capitol, to take tests for entering Tambov Military School. All military schools were available at no cost to the students. Mikhail knew that he would have to pass a rigorous physical exam and it worried him as he had lost almost half of the hearing in his left ear following a severe infection due to a boyhood swim in a very cold river. He had no plan, but somehow his instincts saved the day. When the ear doctor told him to cover up one ear, Mikhail covered his left ear with his right hand. Mikhail repeated the words he heard with his right ear. Then the doctor told him to cover the other ear and Mikhail covered his left ear with his left hand and again was able to repeat the words heard in his right ear.
He got the highest academic grades in the testing group and became a student of artillery. This caused a modification of his title of Comrade Student Mikhail Ivanovich Sariechev, which is not translatable into English. Russians have two different words for student, one implies a civilian student and the other implies a military student. Four of these military students posed for an informal picture for a friend and somehow this photo survived. Mikhail is the student on the upper right.
Tambov Military School students—1937.
A formal photograph of Mikhail the next year reveals a serious looking young man in an army-issued winter uniform with a curiously odd peak on top of his headgear. This uniform was part of an immense stash captured from the tsar’s warehouses in 1918. The uniforms were warm and comfortable and so the Red Army issued them until they exhausted the supply.
When I was a young girl I asked my father, “What were the best years of your life?” Typically, he would ignore my questions or he would say, “I cannot talk about that, do not ask me!” However, while writing this book, my dear daddy surprised me greatly. He finally gave me the answer in a letter that was part of our normal correspondence. He wrote, “If you really want to know, the best years of my life were the two years in Engineering School in Moscow. After that, they would be the two years at Tambov Military School.”
I was flabbergasted! How could that be? How could he be happy with no shoes, no money, no food, and hard studying? Those were his best years? Oh yes, it must be that youth, great dreams, and the promise of tomorrow is what makes one the happiest! That was a time when the Sariechev Hawk was flying independently in an unfamiliar sky and he was enjoying it.
My father in winter school uniform, 1938.
My father in summer school uniform, 1939.
Two years later, in 1939, the long awaited final oral exams came, the last hurdle before the graduates received their Junior Lieutenant’s rank. Five military staff teachers were present. The 20-year-old Mikhail was well prepared and answered the first few questions well, and then came one of those ambiguous questions that don’t have a clear answer. He reread the question, was silent for a time as he ruminated, then made his decision and proceeded to answer. As he talked and used the blackboard, several of the staff quietly debated this intricate question. Their discussion became heated and emotional as others joined in, even the senior officer, the School Commander Colonel Kuznetsov. It soon was obvious to Mikhail that no one was listening to him, so he stopped and stood at attention. The School Commander came to his senses first and then everyone became quiet. The silence continued on, but Mikhail did not become discouraged as he continued to stand at attention. The panel was looking at him and obviously did not know how he had answered the question. Finally, the Commander spoke, “Excellent.”
Mikhail received the highest mark. As he was leaving, the teacher of that class whispered to him, “You are very clever and that was well-done!”
The happy smiling student replied, “Anyway, they did not listen to me!”
General Budionny, a Cavalry Commander and a legendary leader of the Civil War, visited the academy and there was an inspection of the future commanders. As he slowly walked down the line of men, the general stopped in front of Mikhail and asked him a few questions. After the short conversation, he patted Mikhail on his shoulder, the only commander candidate so honored.
The graduation ceremony and awarding of the collar tabs finally arrived. Mikhail’s outstanding work was rewarded as he was commissioned a Lieutenant, bypassing the lower rank of Junior Lieutenant. Mikhail received another honor. He was the only graduate who was invited to join the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (KPSS). He accepted, and this commitment had implications that exerted a positive impact upon his military career.
• • • • •
The young Lieutenant’s first duty assignment was Mongolia. World War II had just started in Europe. Mongolia was facing invasion by the very aggressive Japanese who had already invaded China so the Mongolians had invited the Soviet Union to help them with their military defense. Mikhail caught the Trans-Siberian Railway. It was a long train ride with plenty of time to think. Like all soldiers everywhere who go into combat, Mikhail wanted to put his life in order, so he set up three deductions from his military salary: his hunchbacked aunt Linda who had been his nanny, his oldest sister Tania, and his Uncle Andre.
The young, newly appointed military officers on the train decided to organize a night watch for their own security on the long trip. It was a simple matter to draw straws to determine who would stand which night watch. Timepieces were scarce, and a luxury at a time when luxuries were rare. Only Mikhail and one other officer had wristwatches. Mikhail had won his as a prize for a school athletic competition and the watch was engraved on the back with his name, date, and the event. He was proud of it and fond of the memories it held. However, they loaned out the two watches willingly to various officers as the long trip continued.
One morning, a sheepish looking officer approached Mikhail. “I hate to tell you this, but I lost your watch last night.” He paused in thought. “I had it at 4:00 a.m. I placed it back in my pocket and the next time I reached for it, it was gone. I’ve looked all over but I can’t find it.”
Mikhail asked, “Why didn’t you wear it on your wrist?” “Your wrist is larger than mine and I would have had to use a new hole on the leather strap. The hole would become larger and spoil the appearance of the strap.”
“Well, no matter, we won’t have to worry about the strap now.”
“I feel terrible about this. I promise you that I will buy you the same kind of watch to replace it on my next payday.”
“No, don’t worry about it. They are not selling watches where we are going anyway. Who knows, maybe the watch will show up!” Mikhail looked at the uncomfortable man. “These things happen. You don’t owe me anything. Relax.”
That afternoon, four of the officers were sitting in a compartment. There was a lull in the conversation as the train pulled into a train station to take on mail and supplies. It was unusually quiet without the clickety-clack of the iron wheels on the train tracks and a faint “tick-tock” became discernable in the silence. The officers looked at each other as they strained to listen. They traced the sound and found that Mikhail’s watch was in the officer’s jodhpurs, in the tight lower pants leg that fit into the high black leather boot. A small hole in his pocket had allowed the watch to escape. Mikhail had a grin on his face as he strapped it back on his wrist.
On the last leg of the trip, the officers convoyed by truck through Mongolia to Zamin Ude (translates as “A Gate on the Road”), a settlement of five Yurts or Mongol Gers, which are circular trellis walled structures with roof poles and covered with felt. This town was located in the Gobi Desert, 15 kilometers from the eastern Manchurian border and included a detachment of Mongolian Border Guards. It was early
July 1939 and they were right in the middle of the ongoing Battle of Khalkin-Gol, which is a relatively short border river between China and far eastern Mongolia. There had been numerous small border incidents between the Japanese/Manchurian forces and the Mongolian/Soviet forces. Both sides were using infantry, cavalry, artillery, armored cars, and light tanks. The Japanese, in a thrust toward Siberia, finally invaded the northeastern corner of Mongolia in force, testing the Soviet-Mongol alliance. The Mongol cavalry and border troops fought with the motivation of young men defending their homeland. They held the heights of Nomynkhan in Manchuria and the main defense line of the Khalkin-Gol River until reinforcing Soviet troops arrived.
The new officers, including my father, had to “hit the ground running.” The Red Army’s 149th Infantry Regiment of the 36th Motorized Division claimed Mikhail. He found himself commander of a Russian artillery depot with responsibility for training, maintenance, and repairs of a variety of field artillery, howitzers and cannons. All the military technology was new and there were no experts available. Nevertheless, the ambitious officer quickly got things going.
19. The First Order
Eight hundred years ago no one could imagine that Mongolia would need protecting from anyone. Certainly not my kidnapped blond ancestor Agahsha who was forcibly transported there on horse by a Mongolian Commander. The eight hundred years inevitably brought some changes. However, many things stayed the same. Unwittingly, Agahsha and my father likely shared many similar experiences.
Mongolia is a sparsely populated, landlocked Asian nation bordered by Russia to the north and China to the east, west, and south. Its terrain is a high plateau with mountains, salt lakes, and vast grassy steppes, but the southland is part of the vast Gobi Desert. Herding and agriculture with some mining was the basis of the economy and most of its population at that time were semi-nomadic herders.
The daunting landscape, scattered population, and peaceful Buddhist religion were not well prepared to resist the apparently invincible Imperial Forces from the Land of the Rising Sun. The well-trained Japanese troops had gained valuable combat experience as they fought across China. More importantly, they were instilled with the “Bushido” or “Way of the Warrior” which is a code of conduct for the samurai that has Confucian and Zen Buddhist roots clear back to the 6th century B.C. Its one unchanging ideal was martial spirit enhanced by athletic and military skills and fearlessness in battle. Other attributes like frugal living, kindness, filial piety, and honesty were considered highly desirable, but as a lower priority.
Capture by the enemy was considered a disgrace worse than death. This explains the shortage of Japanese POWs and the ill-treatment of prisoners in the hands of Japanese. Anyone who has fought them or experienced an occupation under them understands this fact quite well. The Japanese officers carried swords that they occasionally used to decapitate their own soldiers guilty of violating “good order and discipline!”
The Russians knew that without them Mongolia would certainly fall to the Japanese Professional War Machine and that the Russian border was next in line. They were literally fighting for the survival of their Mother Russia.
The Japanese successfully launched two major tank attacks and broached the Russian defensive line near the area where Mikhail was posted. The Soviet troops were hastily relocating to new defensive positions and some abandoned equipment and supplies was typical for these situations. Mikhail was aware of this and he made a decision to evacuate with everything that he was responsible for, even if it cost him his life. The young officer knew that if his regiment lost its weapons or its ability to fight, it would be a disaster for them all.
After hours of exhausting work, Mikhail and his subordinates had almost finished organizing the evacuation when a higher-ranking officer pulled up in a jeep. “Comrade Sariechev, give up everything immediately and get into the jeep! It is too dangerous to stay here. Even fifteen more minutes might be too late!”
Mikhail responded in a strained voice, “I’m staying for the evacuation and will leave on the last truck. I can’t give up my responsibility!”
The Major raised his voice, “I’m ordering you to stop and take a seat in my jeep, son! Don’t be such a daredevil, Goddam it!”
“No thanks, Sir. I’ll leave when I finish the work!”
The astounded Major gave up trying to convince Mikhail. He muttered, “The hell with you,” and drove away.
Mikhail was too busy to worry about dying. He finished the evacuation and with feelings of a job well done, he left on the very last truck. The next day, Mikhail learned that a Japanese artillery bombardment had caught Soviet troops on the road. The Major’s jeep suffered a direct hit and there were no survivors.
Another time, an older Japanese man wandered into the area of Mikhail’s unit. He appeared dazed and his civilian clothes were dirty and worn. Some of Mikhail’s men brought the unfortunate fellow to him. Mikhail questioned him with an interpreter. The man spoke Japanese, Korean, and some Chinese. He claimed to be a civilian contractor who provided food for the Japanese Army. A barrage of artillery fire had left him shell-shocked. He lost everything and he did not even know where he was.
Mikhail kept questioning him and became suspicious that the older man was hiding something from him. Maybe he was really a spy. Maybe he was a Japanese Army officer. Finally, Mikhail mentioned the Gulag Archipelago and threatened to send him there. This frightened the man.
“Please, Sir, do not send me there. I have a family that loves me and depends upon me to support them. I don’t want to die in your Gulag.”
“Tell me what you know, right now!”
The old trader finally agreed. “A few days ago, I was selling army crackers in that small town over there.” He pointed to several hills which hid a settlement known to Mikhail because his regiment had stationed a Russian infantry unit there.
“Usually people buy crackers by the large box but one man approached me and bought just a few packages. It seemed strange, and after he left I watched him enter an old house that someone else told me was abandoned. Something about it was not right!”
“Which house was it?”
“It’s on the lower end of the main street. It was a faded white one-story building about to fall down from old age and neglect.”
Lieutenant Sariechev had a soldier guard the prisoner as he ordered a Sergeant to round up a detail of riflemen and a truck for a short mission. They departed with the interpreter.
It was an easy job to surround the house, then burst in and capture the surprised five men in the attic. Further questioning indicated that they were Japanese military men on a mission behind enemy lines. Probably sabotage, maybe even the ammo dump near Mikhail’s unit. Mikhail quickly sent them under guard to his regimental headquarters. He then released the older Japanese trader and sent him on his way. None of this was really Mikhail’s responsibility but he had quickly seized the initiative and proceeded with logic. Mikhail turned his attention back to his work.
The fact that Russians could take the initiative while Germans had to “get permission from Berlin” for most actions was probably another reason that the Russians defeated the Germans. The joke was that German truck drivers had to get Berlin’s okay to change a flat tire.
Mikhail Sariechev received the coveted “Order of the Red Star” for excellent leadership in satisfactorily completing the large evacuation. It was the first of many medals and orders that he would earn. A lingering thought was that this action brought my father to the attention of the Red Army Intelligence. They were always looking for “a few good men.”
The Khalkin-Gol Battle lasted from May 11 to September 16, 1939. One confirmed report had a Japanese lieutenant draw his sword and lead a bayonet charge against Russian tanks. The Japanese valor appeared to be winning the battle at first but eventually Russian tanks and artillery proved superior. Russian casualties were comparatively light, but the aggressive Japanese Imperial Forces suffered over 60,000 fatalities.
The
Japanese failure was shattering to both Tokyo and Berlin. This decisive defeat was a major factor in Japan’s fateful decision not to honor the “Berlin-Tokyo Axis” agreement with Hitler, which included an active front on Russia’s Pacific Ocean coast. Japan now altered their major effort toward the Pacific and Southeast Asia.
The victory gave Mongolia ample reason to celebrate. There had been a real danger that much of the Mongol army might defect to the Japanese. However, following this battle many of the Inner Mongolian troops recruited by Japan came over to the Mongol Army.
Very soon after the battle, my father was promoted to Comrade Senior Lieutenant Mikhail Ivanovich Sariechev. He also received a month-long vacation after his first busy year at the front. His parents wanted him to get married and to take his Russian bride with him back to Mongolia. This was acceptable to the young man and he looked forward to it. His parents had found an agreeable and suitable girl with a willing family and they eagerly awaited Mikhail’s arrival. Looking back on this, it seems strange to me that her parents would sanction sending their daughter to marry a stranger and move to a war zone. They were either naive or filled with faith. I do not think I could do this to a daughter of my own, but the older generations of peasants were not hesitant in sending their offspring out into the world to meet their own fate.
Dad was to meet the girl, a nurse named Zeena, at a clubhouse in a nearby village. It was summertime and the clubhouse had dancing every night, so the young couple had a week or more to get to know each other.
Zeena had a rejected suitor, an ex-soldier who would not accept no for an answer. Prior to the war, it was standard for every Russian boy to serve in the Russian Armed Forces starting at 18 to 20 years of age. The former suitor was now about 23, a natural leader, well liked by the locals, and considered a good lad. Nevertheless, love brings about strange events. This jealous young man arranged with about ten of his friends to beat Mikhail to death. Maybe the ex-soldier just did not like officers. A brother of Zeena was included in this group and he informed her with the warning, “Do not betray me.”
My Russian Family Page 13