The History of the American Expedition Fighting the Bolsheviki Part 14

GREAT WHITE REACHES

Lines Of Communication Guarded Well--Fast Travelling Pony Sleighs--Major Williams Describes Sled Trip--A Long Winter March--Visiting Three Hundred Year Old Monastery--Snowshoe Rabbit Story--Driving Through Fairyland--Lonely, Thoughtful Rides Under White North Star--Wonderful Aurora Borealis.

We left "F" Company in the winter, swirling snows guarding the many points of danger on the long lines of communication. They were in December scattered all the way from Archangel to Morjegorskaya. For a few weeks in January, Lieut. Sheridan with his platoon sat on the Bolo lidtilters in Leunova in the lower Pinega Valley and then was hurried down the Dvina to another threatened area. The Red success in pushing our forces out of Shenkursk and down the Vaga made the upper Dvina and Vaga roads constantly subject to raiding parties of the Bolsheviki.

Early in February "K" Company came up from Archangel and took station at Yemetskoe, one platoon being left at Kholmogori. "F" Company had been needed further to the front to support the first battalion companies hard pressed by the enemy. Nervous and suspected villages alike were vigilantly visited by strong patrols. On February 12th Captain Ramsay hurried up with two platoons to reinforce Shred Mekhrenga, traveling a distance of forty versts in one day. But the enemy retired mysteriously as he had oft before just when it seemed that he would overpower the British-Russian force that had been calling for help. So the Americans were free to go back to the more ticklish Vaga-Dvina area.

From here on the story of "F" Company on the lines of communication merges into the story of the stern rear guard actions and the final holding up of the advance of the Reds, and their gallant part will be read in the narrative related elsewhere.

Mention has already been made of the work of "G" and "M" Company platoons on the isolated Pinega Valley lines and of "H" Company guarding the very important Onega-Obozerskaya road, over which pa.s.sed the mails and reinforcements from the outside world. The cl.u.s.ter of villages called Bolsheozerki was on this road. Late in March it was overpowered by a strong force of the Reds and before aid could come the Bolshevik Northern Army commander had wedged a heavy force in there, threatening the key-point Obozerskaya. This point on the line of communication had been guarded by detachments from the Railroad force at Obozerskaya, Americans alternating with French soldiers, and both making use of Russian Allied troops. At the time of its capture it was occupied by a section of French supported by Russian troops. The story of its recapture is told elsewhere.

The trail junction point Volshenitsa, between Seletskoe and Obozerskaya, was fitted up with quarters for soldiers and vigilantly guarded against surprise attacks by the Reds from 443, or Emtsa. Sometimes it was held by British and Russians from Seletskoe and sometimes by Americans from Obozerskaya.

It sounds easy to say "Guarding lines of communication." But any veteran of the North Russian expedition will tell you that the days and nights he spent at that duty were often severe tests. When that Russki thermometer was way below forty and the canteen on the hip was solid ice within twenty minutes of leaving the house, and the sleigh drivers'

whiskers were a frozen Niagara, and your little party had fifteen versts to go before seeing another village, you wondered how long you would be able to handle your rifle if you should be ambushed by a party of Bolos.

With the settling down of winter the transportation along the great winter reaches of road became a matter of fast traveling pony sleighs with frequent exchange of horses. Officers and civil officials found this travel not unpleasant. The following story, taken from the Red Cross Magazine and adapted to this volume, will give the doughboy a pleasing recollection and the casual reader a vivid picture of the winter travel.

This might be the story of Captain Ramsay driving to Pinega in January to visit that front. Or it might be old "Three-Hair" Doc Laird sledging to Soyla to see "Military Pete" Primm's st.u.r.dy platoon. Or it might be Colonel Stewart on his remarkable trip to the river winter fronts.

However, it is the story of the active American Red Cross Major Williams, who hit the long trails early and showed the rest the way.

"I have just returned from a trip by sled up the Pinega River, to the farthest point on that section where American troops are located. The trip consumed six days and this, with the trip to the Dvina front, makes a total of twenty days journeying by sled and about eight hundred miles covered. Horses and not reindeer are used for transport. The Russian horse, like the peasant, must be a stout breed to stand the strain and stress of existence. They are never curried, are left standing in the open for hours, and usually in spots exposed to cruel winds when there is a semblance of shelter available within a few feet. The peasants do not believe in 'mollycoddling' their animals, nor themselves.

"On the return trip from Dvina I had a fine animal killed almost instantly by his breaking his neck. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, pitch dark of course, and our Russian driver who, clad in reindeer skin and hood, resembled for all the world a polar bear on the front of the sled shouted meaningless and unnecessary words to our two horses to speed them on their way.

"All s.e.xes and ages look alike in these reindeer parkis. We were in a semi-covered sled with narrow runner, but with safety skids to prevent it from completely capsizing. At the foot of every Russian hill the road makes a sharp turn. For a solid week we had been holding on at these turns, but finally had become accustomed, or perhaps I should say resigned, to them. Going down a long hill the horse holds back as long as he can, the driver a.s.sisting in r.e.t.a.r.ding the movement of the sled.

But on steep hills, where this is not possible, it is a case of a run for life.

"Our horse shied sharply at a sleeping bag which had been thrown from baggage sled ahead. The safety skids could not save us, but made the angle of our overturn more complete. Kirkpatrick, several pieces of his luggage, and an abnormal quant.i.ty of hay added to my discomfort. His heavy blanket roll, which he had been using as a back rest, was thrown twenty feet. The top of the sled acted as an ideal snow scoop and my head was rubbed in the snow thoroughly before our little driver, who was hanging on to the reins (b-r-r b-r-r b-r-r) could hold down the horse.

It was not until an hour later, when our driver was bringing in our baggage, that I discovered that our lives had been in the hands of a thirteen-year-old girl.

"After a trip of this sort one becomes more and more enthusiastic about his blanket roll. Sleeping at all times upon the floor, and occasionally packed in like sardines with members of peasant families all in the same room, separated only by an improvised curtain, we kept our health, appet.i.tes and humor.

"A small village of probably two hundred houses. The American soldiers have been in every house. At first the villagers distrusted them. Now they are the popular men of the community with the elders as well as children. Their att.i.tude toward the Russian peasant is helpful, conciliatory, and sympathetic. One of these men told me that on the previous day he had seen a woman crying on the street, saying that their rations would not hold out and they would be forced to eat straw. The woman showed me a piece of bread, hardly a square meal for three persons, which she produced carefully wrapped as if worth its weight in gold from a box in the corner. They had been improvident in the use of their monthly ration of fifteen pounds of flour per person and the end of the month, with yet three days to go, found them in a serious dilemma. When the hard tack and sugar were produced they were speechless with astonishment. And the satisfaction of the American soldier was great to see.

"Up on the Pinega River, many miles from any place, we pa.s.sed a considerable body of American soldiers headed to the front. Every man was the picture of health, cheeks aglow, head up, and on the job. These same men were on the railroad front--four hundred miles in another direction--when I had seen them last. There they were just coming out of the front line trenches and block houses, wearing on their heads their steel hats and carrying on their backs everything but the kitchen stove.

"Now they were rigged more for long marching, in fur caps, khaki coats of new issue with woollen lining, and many carried Alpine poles, for in some places the going was hard.

"From our sled supply every man was given a package of Red Cross cigarettes, and every man was asked if he had received his Christmas stocking. They all had. I dined, by the way, with General Ironside last night, and he was very strong in his praise for this particular body of men who have seen strenuous service and are in for more."

One of the most memorable events in the history of a company of Americans in Russia was the march from Archangel to Pinega, one hundred and fifty miles in dead of winter. The first and fourth platoons made the forced march December 18th to 27th inclusive, hurrying to the relief of two platoons of another company with its back to the wall.

Two weeks later the second and third platoons came through the same march even faster, although it was forty degrees below zero on three days, for it was told at Archangel that the other half of "M" Company was in imminent danger of extermination.

The last instructions for the march, given in the old Smolny barracks, are typical of march orders to American soldiers:

"We march tomorrow on Pinega. Many versts but not all in one day. We shall quarter at night in villages, some friendly, some hostile. We may meet enemy troops. We march one platoon ahead, one behind the 60-sleigh convoy. Alert advance and rear parties to protect the column from surprise.

"Ours is a two-fold mission: First, to reinforce a half of another company which is now outnumbered ten to one; second, to raise a regiment of loyal Russian troops in the great Pinega Valley where half the people are loyal and half are Bolo sympathizers. We hold the balance of power.

Hold up your chins and push out your chests and bear your arms proudly when pa.s.sing among the Russian people. You represent the nation that was slow to wrath but irresistible in might when its soldiers. .h.i.t the Hindenburg Line. Make Russians respect your military bearing. The loyal will breathe more freely because you have come. The treacherous Bolo sympathizers will be compelled to wipe off their scowls and will fear to try any dirty work.

"And further, just as important, remember not only to bear yourselves as soldiers of a powerful people, but bear yourselves as men of a courteous, generous, sympathetic, chivalrous people. Treat these simple people right and you win their devoted friendship. Respect their oddities. Do not laugh at them as do untactful soldiers of another nation. Molest no man's property except of military necessity. You will discover likable traits in the character of these Russians. Here, as everywhere in the world, in spite of differences of language and customs, of dress and work and play and eating and housing, strangers among foreign people will find that in the essentials of life folks is folks.

"You will wear your American field shoes and Arctics in preference to the clumsy and slippery bottomed Shackleton boot. Overcoats will be piled loosely on top of sleighs so as to be available when delay is long. Canteens will be filled each evening at Company "G-I" can. Drink no water in villager's home. You may buy milk. Everyone must protect his health. We have no medical man and only a limited supply of number nines.

"Tomorrow at noon we march. Prepare carefully and cheerfully."

The following account of the march is copied from the daily story written in an officer's diary:

To OUIMA--FIRST DAY, DECEMBER 18TH

After the usual delay with sleigh drivers, with shoutings and "brrs" and shoving and pullings, the convoy was off at 11:55 a. m. December 18. The trail was an improved government road. The sun was on our right hand but very low. The fire station of Smolny at last dropped out of the rearward view. The road ran crooked, like the Dvina along whose hilly banks it wound. A treat to our boys to see rolling, cleared country. Fish towns and lumber towns on the right. Hay stacks and fields on the left, backed by forests. Here the trail is bareswept by the wind from across the river. Again it is snow blown and men and ponies slacken speed in the drifts. Early sets the sun, but the white snow affords us light enough.

The point out of sight in front, the rear party is lost behind the curve. Tiny specks on the ice below and distant are interpreted to be sledges bound for some river port. Nets are exposed to the air and wait now for June suns to move out the fetters of ice. Decent looking houses and people face the strange cavalcade as it pa.s.ses village after village. It is a new aspect of Russia to the Americans who for many weeks have been in the woods along the Vologda railroad.

Well, halting is a wonderful performance. The headman--starosta--must be hunted up to quarter officers and men. He is not sure about the drivers.

Perhaps he fears for the great haystacks in his yard. We cannot wait. In we go and Buffalo Bill's men never had anything on these Russki drivers.

But it all works out, Slava Bogga for army sergeants. American soldiers are quick to pull things through anyway. Without friction we get all in order. Guard is mounted over the sleighs. Now we find out that Mr. Poole was right in talking about "friendly Russians." Our lowly hosts treat us royally. Tea from the samovar steams us a welcome. It is clean homes, mostly, soldiers find themselves in,--clean clothing, clean floors, oil lamps, pictures on the walls.

To LIABLSKAYA--SECOND DAY, DECEMBER 19TH

Crawled out of our sheepskin sleeping bags about 6:00 o'clock well rested. Breakfasted on bacon and bread and coffee. Gave headman ten roubles. Every soldier reported very hospitable treatment. Tea for all.

Milk for many. Some delay caused by the sledge drivers who joined us late at night from Bakaritza with oats. Left at 8:40. Billeting party given an hour's start, travelling ahead of the point to get billets and dinner arranged. Marching hard. Cold sleet from southeast with drifting snow. The Shackelton boot tricky. Men find it hard to navigate. Road very hilly. Cross this inlet here. Down the long hill and up a winding hill to the crest again which overhangs the stream that soon empties into the big Dvina. To the left on the ice-locked beach are two scows.

It is warmer now for the road winds between the pines on both sides. The snow ceases gradually but we do not see the least brightness in the sky to show location of old Sol. We are making four versts an hour in spite of the hills and the c.u.mbrous boots. The drivers are keeping up well.

Only once is the advance party able to look back to the rear guard, the caravan being extended more than a verst. Here is another steep hill.

See the crazy Russki driver give his pony his head to dash down the incline. Disaster hangs in a dizzy balance as he whirls round and round and the heavily loaded sled pulls horse backwards down the hill. Now we meet a larger party of dressed-up folks going to church. It is holy day for Saint Nicholas.

The long hill leading into Liablskaya is a good tester for courage. Some of the men are playing out--eight versts more will be tough marching.

Here is the billeting officer to tell us that the eight versts is a mistake--it is nineteen instead. We must halt for the night. No one is sorry. There is the blazing cook's fire and dinner will be ready soon.

It is only 12:15, but it seems nearly night. Men are quickly a.s.signed to quarters by the one-eyed old headman, Kardacnkov, who marks the building and then goes in to announce to the householder that so many Amerikanski soldats will sleep there. Twenty-five minutes later the rear guard is in. Our host comes quickly with samovar of hot water and a pot of tea.

He is a clerical man from Archangel, a soldier from the Caucasus. With our M. & V. we have fresh milk.

It is dark before 3:00 p.m. We need a lamp. All the men are well quartered and are trying to dry their shoes. We find the sergeants in a fine home. A bos'n of a Russian vessel is home on leave. We must sit in their party and drink a hop-ferment subst.i.tute for beer. Their coffee and cakes are delicious and we hold converse on the political situation.

"American soldiers are here to stop the war and give Russia peace" is our message. In another home we find a war prisoner from Germany, back less than a week from Petrograd front. He had to come around the Bolsheviki lines on the Vologda R. R. He says the B. government is on its last legs at Petrograd.

To KOSKOGOR--THIRD DAY, DECEMBER 20TH

Oh, you silvery moon, are you interested in that bugle call? It is telling our men to come to breakfast at once--6:45, for we start for Koskogor at 8:00 a. m. or before. The start is made at 7:45. Road is fine--well-beaten yesterday by marketing convoys and by Russians bound for church to celebrate Saint Nick's Day. Between the pines our road winds. Not a breath of air has stirred since the fine snow came in the night and "ridged each twig inch deep with pearl." What a sight it would have been if the sun had come up. Wisconsin, we think of you as we traverse these bluffs. You tenth verst, you break a beautiful scene on us with your trail across the valley. You courageous little pony, you deserve to eat all that hay you are lugging up that hill. Your load is not any worse than that of the pony behind who hauls a giant log on two sleds. You deserve better treatment, Loshad. When Russia grows up to an educated nation animal power will be conserved.

Here we see the primitive saw mill. Perched high on a pair of horses is a great log. Up and down cuts the long-toothed saw. Up pulls the man on top. Down draws the man on the ground. Something is lacking--it is the snap-ring that we so remember from boyhood wood-cutting days in Michigan.

Here we are back to the river again and another picturesque scene with its formidable hill--Verst 18. But we get on fast for the end is in sight. The windmill for grinding grain tells us a considerable village is near. We arrive and stop on the top of the hill in the home of a merchant-peasant, Lopatkin: a fine home--house plants and a big clock and a gramophone. It is cold, for the Russian stove has not been fired since morning--great economy of fuel in a land of wood.

To KHOLMOGORA--FOURTH DAY, DECEMBER 21ST

Harbinger of hope! Oh you red sky line! Shall we see the sun today?

It is 8:00 a. m. and from our hill top the wide red horizon in the south affords a wonderful scene. In the distance, headlands on the Dvina cut bold figures into the red. Far, far away stretches the flat river. Now we are safely down the long, steep hill and a.s.sembled on the river.

Sergeant Getzloff narrowly escapes death from a reckless civilian's pony and sleigh. We crawl along the east sh.o.r.e for a verst and then cross squarely to the other side, facing a cold, harsh wind. What a wonderful subject for a picture. Tall pines--tallest we have yet seen in Russia, on the island lift their huge trunks against the red, the broad red band on the skyline. And now, too, the upland joins itself to the scene.