The army that went into combat in August 1914 was a highly professional body, in some respects not unlike the British Expeditionary Force, with great emphasis on regimental esprit de corps. Its outlook, however, was pre-industrial and even militantly anti-industrial. The command staff, dominated by the Minister of War, Vladimir Sukhomlinov, and his appointees, modeled itself on Russia’s most successful general, the eighteenth-century marshal Alexander Suvorov, emphasizing offensive operations and hand-to-hand combat. It had little use for the whole technological and scientific dimension of modern warfare. Its preferred weapon was the bayonet; its favorite tactic, storming enemy positions without regard to casualties.17 Greatest value was attached to courage under fire—a quality for which the mechanized, depersonalized combat of World War I, after the initial battles, would provide few opportunities. The Russian High Command believed that too much reliance on technology and too scientific a calculation of the balance of forces adversely affected troop morale. Russian generals disliked war games: a game scheduled in 1910 was peremptorily called off an hour before it was to have started on orders of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich.18
The Russian soldier on whom, in the ultimate reckoning, everything depended was an uncertain quantity. For the most part, he was a peasant. Village experience, reinforced by army discipline, had taught him to obey orders: as long as these were given in a manner that brooked no opposition and carried the threat of punishment, he cheerfully obeyed. He faced death with fatalism. But he lacked inner motivation. As noted previously, he was a virtual stranger to the sentiment of patriotism. The failure of the Imperial Government to develop mass education meant that much of the citizenry lacked awareness of a common heritage and common destiny, which is its principal ingredient. The muzhik had little sense of “Russianness.” He thought of himself, not as a “Russkii,” but as a “Viatskii” or “Tulskii”—that is, a native of Viatka or Tula province—and as long as the enemy did not threaten his home territory, he had no quarrel with him.19 Some Russian peasants, on reading the Imperial Manifesto declaring war on the Central Powers, were uncertain whether it applied to their village. This lack of commitment accounts for the extraordinary number of Russians who during the war would either surrender or desert. The absence of a sense of national identity was, of course, aggravated in the case of non-Russian soldiers, such as the Ukrainians. If one considers further that the muzhik had his ears keenly attuned for the approach of the “Great Leveler” who would distribute land, it is clear that he made a good soldier only for as long as the Imperial regime held firmly together and enforced discipline. Any weakening of military discipline, any sign that the village was stirring, was likely to transform the men in uniform into rabble.
The British military attaché, Colonel Knox, who spent the war at the Eastern Front and got to know Russian soldiers probably better than any other foreigner, formed a low opinion of them:
The men had the faults of their race. They were lazy and happy-go-lucky, doing nothing thoroughly unless driven to it. The bulk of them went willingly to the war in the first instance, chiefly because they had little idea what war meant. They lacked the intelligent knowledge of the objects they were fighting for and the thinking patriotism to make their morale proof against the effects of heavy loss; and heavy loss resulted from unintelligent leading and lack of proper equipment.20
“Unintelligent leading” and “lack of proper equipment” were, indeed, the Achilles’ heel of the Russian military effort.
The Ministry of War was entrusted in 1909 to General Sukhomlinov, whose only combat experience had been in the Turkish war of 1877–78, in which he is said to have displayed impressive courage. By the time he reached the pinnacle of his career he had turned into a courtier, a servitor of the old patrimonial kind, whose loyalty was not to the country but the dynasty. Good at amusing the Tsar with anecdotes, he enjoyed popularity at the Court for his devotion and bonhomie. As Minister of War, he was nowhere as incompetent as later charged, when he became a scapegoat for Russia’s defeats; and he was certainly not guilty of treason. But he did live far above his means and is known to have supplemented his modest income with bribes: after his arrest in 1916 it was discovered that he had in his bank account hundreds of thousands of rubles in excess of his salary.21 Perhaps his worst sin, however, was the refusal to grasp the requirements of modern warfare. For one, he rejected the “interference” of private citizens in the war effort and disdained the politicians and industrialists who wished to help prepare Russia for the coming war. For another, he carried out in 1912 a destructive purge of officers, popularly known as “Young Turks,” versed in modern warfare, among them his deputy, Alexis Polivanov, who in 1915 would replace him. By favoring officers of the Suvorov school and demoting more talented rivals, he bore heavy responsibility for Russia’s poor performance in the first year of the war.
The higher a Russian’s rank, the less likely was he to possess the requisite military qualities. Many of the generals were careerists more adept at politicking than fighting. After the 1905 Revolution, officers were advanced mainly on the basis of personal loyalty to the Imperial dynasty. Promotion to the post of commander of a division or higher had to be confirmed by a Supreme Examination Board (Vysshaia Attestatsionnaia Kommissiia), chaired by Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, which used dynastic loyalty as its main criterion. Photographs of Russian generals of the period show amiable, portly gentlemen, usually bearded, who must have made better dinner companions than combat leaders. According to Knox,
the bulk of the regimental officers of the Russian army suffered from the national faults. If not actually lazy, they were inclined to neglect their duties unless constantly supervised. They hated the irksome duty of everyday training. Unlike our officers, they had no taste for outdoor amusements, and they were too prone to spend a holiday in eating rather more and in sleeping much more.22
23. General V. A. Sukhomlinov.
Some of the highest commanders of Russian troops in World War I, including chiefs of staff and heads of armies, had made their entire careers in administration and lacked any combat experience.
Field-grade officers were better, but in short supply. Because of the low pay and low prestige of officers (except in the elite Guard Regiments, open only to persons with the proper social background and wealth), the army had difficulty recruiting able young men into the service. There was a persistent shortage of junior-grade officers. The situation with noncommissioned officers was plainly disastrous. Inasmuch as few NCOs reenlisted, a high proportion of those on active service were privates given stripes after cursory training. They enjoyed little respect from the troops.
Russia’s capacity for waging a protracted war did not look much more promising from the economic point of view.
The one sector of the economy that was adequate to the demands of a war of attrition was agriculture. Throughout the war years, Russia would produce ample food surpluses, which allowed her to avoid food rationing. The suspension of grain exports and two successive bumper harvests (1915 and 1916) provided an abundant reserve of food. This was one of the reasons for the smugness with which many Russians contemplated the prospect of war. But, as will be noted later, this advantage was in good measure vitiated by the government’s difficulties in extracting grain from the cash-rich peasants who withheld it in anticipation of higher prices, and by the inadequacies of transport.