Semenovsky dungeons
Shepard
January 11, 9:04 PM
I came across a truly wonderful memoir about Ataman Semyonov, written by an eyewitness to Semyonov's exploits in Siberia. It was published in 1921 in Harbin—hot on the heels, so to speak. The title, "Semyonov's Dungeon," is telling. It's short, and the author's vivid and figurative language makes it a breeze to read.
Incidentally, the author calls himself an anti-Bolshevik right in the blurb.
Yes, perhaps we could just give up on everything, but... That's what's getting in the way. First of all, it's hunger, to which Ataman Semyonov and his lieutenants abandoned thousands of people after they called for a march against the Bolsheviks for law and order, the Constituent Assembly, and so on. And what happened? Many of them were killed, even more maimed, some left homeless, without a crust of bread, abandoned to their fate. But the money, the Russian gold, somehow remained with Semyonov and his lieutenants, and they live splendidly—some in Harbin,
some in even warmer climes. And these abandoned ones, after all, have more right to this Russian property, which they earned and defended with their lives, and even gave the opportunity to live, and live well, to those who are not worth a copper penny.
* * *
It is mainly innocent people who perish. I'm not even talking about those who take up arms against Semyonov; no, that's a different matter. And I, as an anti-Bolshevik myself, view this matter differently: that's what civil war is all about. But why are our own dying, our own against our own?!
Perhaps my work will make many come to their senses and think, since in the future, apparently, the same people will be at work, and the newspapers have already reported on this; the same people—the same
actions.
"Semyonov bought the Kappelites for a million and a half," the newspapers say. But time will tell...
It seems to me that none of the ringleaders will ultimately come to a happy end.
* * *
In Chita, all the reprisals against the Bolsheviks (and they grabbed whomever they wanted) were carried out in the Badmaev houses on Sofiyskaya Street. Even now, you can dig in the yard and find the bones of those buried there. Approximately 150-200 corpses were buried there.
Particularly distinguished was Staff Captain Yuri Vladimirovich Popov, commander of the second battery, formerly "Arisaki", shot by Semenov in 1920 at the insistence of Thierbach, along with Captain Skryabin, but more on that later. Like all cruel people, Popov was undoubtedly a coward, and all operations on the condemned were carried out, on his orders, by the battery officers.
* * *
Particularly interesting is the fact of the execution of the baroness and her husband, a Baltic baron. He was practically a prisoner of war, but she was a Russian citizen. Captain Popov took all the Baroness's belongings and jewelry, and ordered the execution or strangulation of Aleshin and Mosolov (the husband was executed separately). They were accused of Bolshevism, and there was no investigation or trial, so it's hard to say what they were accused of: they were simply ordered—and that's it! It must be said that the Baroness was very beautiful, and when Aleshin (he was alone, since Mosolov was keeping watch outside) told her to undress and generally get ready, she began to beg:
"Only, you know, right away, my dear!"—and with such a sweet smile that Aleshin couldn't bear it, and left, afraid for himself that he wouldn't be able to bear it and not take her body.
He went out into the street.
"Listen, Masalych, you go. I can't."
— Why? What's wrong with you? You fool?
— No, she's too pretty.
— Give me the Nagant.
And Mosolov was already walking. He hadn't known women yet, and so the Baroness's beauty didn't move him.
When he entered, the Baroness asked him the same thing as Aleshina.
— Good, — said Mosolov, — go into this room, — and he pointed to the one further from the street.
When the Baroness crossed the threshold, Mosolov, who was walking behind, raised the Nagant and shot her in the back of the head. The Baroness swayed and fell.
Two guards came (and there were a lot of them in the detachment then), put the body in a sack and carried it out into the yard, where they buried it.
Husband and wife died.
Why these two deaths?
There were people who tried to protest against the vices and unnecessary executions, but they themselves paid for it with their lives.
* * *
Having witnessed the vices of the executions of completely innocent people, Ensign Bogatyrev and his friend reported to detachment headquarters with a protest. They were listened to and told they could go. That same evening, Captain Popov received a package with orders to eliminate the aforementioned officers. Of course, the same officers, Aleshin and Mosolov, were called in, and they were given this assignment. After some discussion, they appeared before Popov and stated that it would be a bit inconvenient to eliminate their comrades, to which Popov agreed, and Bogatyrev and his friend were sent to
Krasilnikov's detachment, ostensibly to deliver a secret package, which was handed to them. This method was used constantly until their arrival at Pogranichnaya.
The officers, remembering that every order must be carried out, carefully carried the package, and... "delivered to the addressee"
There they read, got them drunk and strangled, and then took them away to the hills in a car. Everything was done secretly. No one except the authorities knew. Someone stumbled upon these corpses, and from the signs on their sleeves "O.M.O." they recognized the officers as Semyonovites. Unrest began. Thierbach had a lot to do to settle this matter. The ataman and the Krasilnikovites were told that these were Bolsheviks
and impostors: a method that is still used to this day. At the slightest provocation - just like that: "Ah! An impostor, a Bolshevik, put him to the hill!"
* * *
Particularly intensive slashing and shootings took place in Makkaveevo: January, February and March of 1919.
They chopped down in the yard where Captain Popov lived. And you can ask the neighbors now, since they often looked over the fence. All this was done,
of course, at night. Once, one of the peepers was even caught, but he excused himself by saying he had gone out "to get some sleep," hadn't seen anything, and didn't know anything. He was threatened with a flogging, and then worse—and placed under surveillance. Those who were chopped up as they died were taken to Ingoda and lowered into an ice hole, and those who were shot were taken to the hills to be shot and thrown to the wolves. But they were shot.
Rarely: they spared the cartridges, but they were really carried away by the chopping, some studied and even achieved virtuosity. Ensign Pavlov (now for some reason a lieutenant colonel^, who was taken by Thierbach to the headquarters, and now serves the Ussuri Cossacks in Grodekovo) distinguished himself, and Ensign Tarchinsky, promoted to Makkaveevo from the midshipmen. Each had his own job: Pavlov excelled in the yard; Tarchinsky chopped well when the condemned man stood over the ice hole, and skillfully, with the help of soldiers, lowered him under the ice...
* * *
There was not a single case of anyone being acquitted, of course, when the trial took place in this way. Captain Popov often presided.
And sometimes there was no outcome, since on the note or the files of the accused a cross was put in pencil and circled - and the signature: "Colonel Thierbach" - well, that means: "coffin".
Here, even if the whole world is for him, there is no evidence against him, all the same - he must be destroyed. Judges usually do not They didn't even investigate such cases, or even investigate them at all. After asking two or three questions, like "What's your wife's name?" they would simply take you away to be tortured, and then to be executed.
* * *
When they learned that an armored car was coming, everyone at the station, as well as in the village, froze; those who needed to, hid; even the cattle seemed to understand: cows weren't like that. They were mooing loudly, and the dogs were completely invisible. They scared little children with the armored car. The saying about man is confirmed once again: "Every beast is a coward." Feeling safe, the people inhabiting the armored train seemed not to be people, but some kind of predatory, bloodthirsty beasts. That's why they were afraid of the armored car. I repeat once again that the Bolshevik detachments did not consider the armored car as a combat unit and were not afraid. They only knew that it you won't take it. This is true, but it is also true that if you get on an armored train, not only will you not leave alive, but before death, it seems, you will get acquainted with all the tortures, and on your own skin. That is why armored trains were terrible.
* * *
All executions were usually carried out in a combat car, that is, an armored car, in which there are two or three machine guns and sometimes on
the tower, if there is one, a small-caliber gun, as well as a machine gun. The car is so tightly sealed and armored everywhere that you can’t hear from the outside
what is happening inside the car.
Even more often, after torture, the condemned person was immediately tied up and sent to the locomotive. The precaution was such that they tied his hands and feet with wire and threw him into the firebox. How great the torment was for someone thrown into the firebox, the reader is invited to judge for himself.
The armored cars were also responsible for shooting large groups. Then their They were put into carriages, and, having left the station, the armored train stopped in a field, the arrested were taken out, lined up and finished off with machine gun fire or a chopping: it depended on the kombron (i.e., the commander,
armored car). Especially many were shot in the Makkaveevo-Andrianovka area. And what happened on the Amur railway, well, only God
knows.
Once in Andrianovka, 300 people were shot in one day. True, these were former Red Army soldiers, but what was the degree of their guilt? Perhaps the same as after the mobilization in Harbin, and any Harbin resident caught by chance will be caught by the Bolsheviks. Well, tell me, how great is his guilt before the Bolshevik government, that he goes against them?
* * *
Didn't they have executions in the good old days? Didn't they shoot criminals, both political and common law, before? But it never occurred to them that people could be burned in the firebox of a locomotive, the purpose of which is completely different.
* * *
Colonels Stepanov and Popov might have perpetrated their atrocities for a long time, if they hadn't been caught by chance. During one of his armored train rides, as assistant to the armored train commander, Popov saw a schoolgirl of about 18 years old at a station. He liked her. It happened on the armored car "Povertel", commanded by Captain Skryabin. How to take her? Popov ordered her arrest. The mother knew and even asked Popov himself to release her daughter, who was innocent. But guilt, naturally, was found: they said that she was involved in Bolshevism, agitation, etc., and they took her away. During the raid, she was raped. They raped in turns. The beginning, of course, as the senior in rank belonged to Colonel Popov. When it was all over, the question arose, what to do? They couldn’t let her go. They decided to destroy her—toss her into the furnace. Did Skryabin feel sorry for her or did he do it unconsciously, but before throwing her, he choked her a little, so that she fell into a deep faint. But what of it? Poor schoolgirl!
* * *
As far as the reader has noticed, not a word was said about the baron, and if he was caught, then—well, In passing, and as if by chance. This is why it happened. Baron von Ungern-Sternberg lived completely separately, didn't interfere with anyone, but he didn't let anyone in either, and if I want to say a few words about him now, it's only because I'll have to meet the person I'm describing in the baron's cherished place. That the ataman and the baron worked in close contact, although orders and announcements were written that the baron was separate and that the ataman was not responsible for his actions—that's true, and that the ataman was afraid of the baron is also true. In some cases, the baron really did disobey the ataman, telling him to go to hell, and in the end, Semyonov stopped showing himself to the baron as his superior.
The baron is an abnormal person, but they say that madness and genius always come together in a person. Perhaps this is noticeable in the baron.
The Baron, however, wasn't left looking like a fool—he'd already taken all his own goods and those of the division to Hailar, and now he's free, even "acquiring" a few things, unlike Semenov, who, having given the army's multi-million-dollar property to the sharks to plunder, fled to Port Arthur.
After all, Ataman Semenov's words at the officers' dinner in Borzya were as follows:
"Brothers, just as the earth, according to folk tales, rests on three whales, so we now rest on three divisions: Baron von Ungern-Sternberg's Asian cavalry, the Manchurian, and the armored division. And when things get tough, I'll be among you, I'll be with you!"
Where were you when the army, stripped and exhausted, dejectedly marched to a foreign land—China?
The army, leaving its homeland, waited for you, waited for words of encouragement from its commanders. And yet you were dividing up the gold, throwing banquets, while
the ragged and wounded warriors who had defended your well-being were thrown to the mercy of fate and the desecration of the enemy at Matsiyevskaya.
After all, the Dauria-Manchuria region, with over 15,000 troops at its disposal, could be maintained for years, especially with supplies from
China at your service. And how much wealth was abandoned and burned in Dauria instead of being defended. I can imagine how Baron Semenov rages and curses upon learning that his beloved
Dauria has been abandoned. The atrocities the Baron committed are worse than Semenov's, but still, when the Baron left Dauria, almost everyone followed him, and he did not force anyone to leave. Let those who wish go, and whoever wishes, for God's sake, stay. And they will follow the Baron, because the Baron will never abandon anyone; the Baron knows how to support and when it's necessary. Semyonov fell without Japanese support, and the Baron is doing just fine—nothing! And not just for years. Perhaps the Baron will survive, wandering with his detachment across the Mongolian steppes and the hills of Transbaikalia, and rest assured: the Baron's men will not be hungry or underdressed; you will never see them like that. However, something must be said about the Baron, so that one can see what a beast he truly was. Many have, of course, heard how the Baron shot and flogged Bolsheviks, but it's not surprising that he didn't even spare his own for the slightest offense, and sometimes even for nothing.
It's the latter that deserves mention. It should be noted that the baron didn't use whips like Semyonov's, but rather spatulas shaped like miniature oars. For example, one officer was flogged by the baron for embezzling 14,000 Siberian rubles and died after three hundred blows. And here you'll see how powerless the "authorities" were against the baron. One day, a train loaded with aircraft equipment was passing by Dauria. The train's commander, Lieutenant N., was traveling with his family and therefore had a separate boxcar, where he, his wife, and other household members were staying. According to the orders, the lieutenant was supposed to travel to Manchuria, where he would unload and set up an aircraft depot near Manchuria. Upon stopping at the Dauria station, the commandant of the said station came to
He approached the commander of the train and asked who was traveling, why, and for what purpose, as was always the case with the Baron. The lieutenant told him everything, showed him his documents, after which the commandant, satisfied, left.
But after a while, an officer from the Baron arrived and conveyed the Baron's order to disembark in Dauria. The depot commander said he wouldn't do this, as he had orders from his superiors to continue on, and as a military man, he had no right to disobey them. The Baron's officer left, but after a while, the commander of the train was arrested, and the depot was unloaded. A day or two later, this lieutenant was shot, despite all his wife's pleas. But since she was too persistent,
the baron ordered his chief of staff, Colonel Yevtin, to give her 100 gold rubles and to leave Dauria immediately, otherwise he would flog her. Which, of course, the poor widow wisely did, that is, she left. Later, when she obtained an audience with the ataman and told him everything, he merely threw up his hands and said there was nothing he could do,
adding in a whisper for her to leave. The baron was sitting in the ataman's office. Semyonov received the lady at the door.
* * *
From Chita, everyone moved under the wing of the Manchu division. Lord, what isn't here! The Minister of Education—give her an apartment! The regional governor
(something like a governor, or perhaps even a governor-general—their nicknames are each more terrifying and more important than the next!)... The soldiers and officers seemed drawn to him at first, but then they seemed to give up on these men, who, in fact, only eat the bread of the Russian state, and are of no use whatsoever. And truly, can any of these gentlemen be compared—well, even with a soldier who gives his all to his country, gives the most precious thing—his life?! And what do these ministers give? After all, they only bring confusion into the overall work, and perhaps even oppress the people under their control—that's their job. If you think back and ask yourself about the ministers (and there were a great many of them in Ufa, Omsk, Irkutsk, Chita, and
other cities of the Russian Empire where they also sat), what did even one of them actually do, what did he come up with that was so clever that his ministry actually got out of the impasse? And the answer will always be: no, no, and no.
And they did nothing, except perhaps steal what they were in charge of. And the ministries headed by these men were always at an impasse.
* * *
Well, that's almost it. It's all over. Chita has surrendered. The troops are fleeing. And there's not a single person who could stop this flight. The "bosses" have once again shown that they don't give a damn
It's worth it. The "higher-ups" unceremoniously grabbed the boxes of gold and rode off, some on horseback, some in cars, first to Manchuria, and then here, to Harbin. And the army? The army, apparently with a clear conscience, was abandoned, just as everything was abandoned. The armored cars were blown up. The quartermaster's supplies fell into the hands of the enemy. When the army was in need, nothing was issued, everyone said that there was none, but during the retreat, when there was nowhere else to put it, they found enormous reserves of cloth, warm clothing, oats, and so on. All this was lying in sealed train cars and was apparently intended for the "corral." Here, it was already possible to take, because the soldiers smashed the carriages, mostly out of curiosity about what was in them, but there was nowhere to take and no time, because it was necessary to save your lives.
And they saved, fleeing 60-70 miles a day. We arrived in Manchuria. That's when the real trading began! Yes, what can you do?
Such is the trading settlement, this Manchuria. Here you would be glad - but nothing can be done! Everything that was possible was sold. While the Chinese were still figuring out what to do with weapons and the like, weapons were traded both secretly and openly, but when the Chinese decisively began to take away not only weapons, but also everything that happened to be in your pockets, such as a watch, a wallet - that was taken away too.
The ladies were especially sufferers: they rode up to Manchuria on horseback or in a car, or simply on foot; Near the village, one would usually encounter Chinese soldiers who would practice sleight of hand. As I've already said, everyone was selling and trading: generals and soldiers alike. The only difference was that a soldier would sell his last shirt, while a general would sell entire train cars of the same goods. Colonel Grant, of course, dipped his toes in here too, but since he always ended up with bloodletting, he couldn't do without them in Manchuria. This time, he worked with the ataman's personal adjutant, Lieutenant Colonel Torchinov, but Grant miscalculated and admitted he got nothing, since Torchinov took the money and didn't share it with Colonel Grant.
Late in the evening, Grant and Torchinov drove up to a hotel in the village of Manchuria, called a gentleman, put him in their car, and drove away. Grant had to strangle this gentleman, and since this gentleman was almost twice as healthy as Grant, the latter had to spend a long time with him. "Oh, it was difficult," Grant later admitted.
The body was dumped on a hill, not far from the village of Manchuria. Torchinov took the hotel room key and, after the job was done, checked into the hotel, took eighteen thousand yen from the strangled gentleman's room, all his belongings, and left. Colonel Grant got only the murdered gentleman's coat, which he wears, or rather, wore around Harbin. But many Harbin residents know this coat, as many knew the strangled gentleman here. The murdered gentleman was Colonel Martensen.
Download for free or read online here.
https://rev-lib.com/semenovskie-zastenk ... ochevidca/
P.S. Ungern was shot in 1921. Semenov - in 1946.
https://colonelcassad.livejournal.com/10300263.html