Lieven D. (ed.) The Cambridge History of Russia, Volume 2: Imperial Russia, 1689-1917
Подождите немного. Документ загружается.
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
Foreign policy and the armed forces
Russia had been alarmed by the growth in Germany’s power and worried that
Berlin had designs for European hegemony. How best to defend the empire
from an attack by Germany, perhaps supported by Austria, swiftly became the
chief preoccupation of Russia’s military leadership, and was to remain so until
1914. This was the reason that Russia’s venture into east Asian imperialism
at the turn of the century so disquieted senior generals. Russia’s acquisition
of Port Arthur, its lodgement in Manchuria and its intrigues in Korea were
attended by the risk of war with Japan. In the view of such influential figures as
War Minister A. N. Kuropatkin, Russia did not have either the military budget
or the manpower to protect her new acquisitions in the Far East, confronted
as she was by a much more dangerous threat to her security in Europe.
When in February 1904 Japan opened hostilities against Russia by launching
a surprise attack on Russia’s Pacific fleet at Port Arthur, the Russian armed
forces in the Far East were caught unprepared. Initially outnumbered, her
troops dependent for their reinforcement and supply on the attenuated umbil-
ical cord of the Trans-Siberian railway, Russia endured one military reverse
after another in the land war. Port Arthur capitulated to the Japanese in
January 1905 after a seven-month siege, and in central Manchuria Russia suf-
fered serious defeats at Liaoyang, the Sha-Ho, Sandepu and Mukden. Nor did
the war at sea produce any news more welcome. Dispatched to the Pacific to
engage the Japanese in their home waters, Russia’s Baltic fleet was spectac-
ularly annihilated in the battle of Tsushima Straits (May 1905). Negotiations
resulted in the Peace of Portsmouth, which stripped Russia of Port Arthur, her
position in Manchuria and half of Sakhalin island.
Russia’s loss of the Japanese war of 1904–5 was not preordained, for she
might have won it had she made better operational and strategic decisions
during the ground war and had made more offensive use of her naval assets
in the Pacific.
28
Indeed, despite all of her flagrant military blunders, arguably
Russia would have won the war if the revolution of 1905 had not intervened to
cripple the military effort. By the time the peace treaty was signed, Russia’s
forces outnumbered Japan’s in Manchuria, while Tokyo had run out of reserves
and was precariously close to fiscal collapse besides.
The revolution of 1905–7 brought two dire consequences for the Russian
army in its train. First, the contagion of rebellion not only blanketed the towns
and villages of the empire but also penetrated into the ranks of the army itself.
In late 1905 and throughout 1906 (particularly after April) there occurred over
28 Julian S. Corbett, Maritime Operations in the Russo-JapaneseWar 1904–1905, 2 vols. (Annapo-
lis, Md. and Newport, RI: Naval Institute Press and Naval War College Press, 1994),
vol. II, pp. 396–7.
542
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
The imperial army
400 military mutinies, in which soldiers defied the orders of their officers and
issued economic and political demands.
29
Second, the government answered
the mass strikes, protests and agrarian disorders with an unprecedented appli-
cation of military force: on more than 8,000 occasions between 1905–7 military
units were called upon to assist in the restoration of order.
30
Failed war, revo-
lution and repressive service demoralised the army, disrupted its training and
made a shambles of the empire’s external defence posture. It would take the
Russian army considerable time, money and intellectual energy to recover.
Military defeat engendered introspection and reform, just as it had after 1856,
and although by 1914 the reform process still had some years to run, the Russian
army was in good enough condition to wage what most assumed would be a
short, general conflict in Europe. But neither the Russian army nor Russian
society was up to the strain of the protracted, total, industrial conflict that
the First World War quickly became. The War offered conclusive proof that
neither the army nor the empire as a whole had adequately modernised since
the middle of the nineteenth century.
With respect to the army, one source of inertia was the inherent difficulty
of commanding, supplying and managing military units so numerous and so
widely dispersed. Centralisation and decentralisation both had administrative
advantages and disadvantages, and Russia’s military leadership was never able
to reconcile the tension among them. One figure who tried to do so was
D. A. Miliutin, Russia’s most eminent and energetic nineteenth-century mil-
itary reformer. As war minister for almost the entire reign of Alexander II,
Miliutin was responsible for substantive innovation in the army’s force struc-
ture, schools, hospitals and courts, and presided over the introduction of the
breechloading rifle and other up-to-date weapons.
31
But he also sought to
streamline the operations of his ministry by creating eight glavnye upravleniia
(or main administrations), with functional supervision over artillery, cavalry,
engineering, intendence (supply and logistics), medicine, law, staff work and so
forth. At the same time he divided the empire into fourteen (later fifteen) mil-
itary districts, each with its own headquarters and staff and sub-departments,
that mirrored the organisation of the War Ministry back in St Petersburg.
Miliutin’s administrative restructuring thus combined the principles of cen-
tralisation and decentralisation, for while the various military agencies and
29 John Bushnell, Mutiny Amid Repression: Russian Soldiers in the Revolution of 1905–08
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), pp. 76–7, 173.
30 William C. Fuller, Jr, Civil–Military Conflict in Imperial Russia, 1881–1914 (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1985), pp. 129–30.
31 Joseph Bradley, Guns for the Tsar: American Technology and the Small Arms Industry in
Nineteenth-Century Russia (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1990), pp. 126–7.
543
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
Foreign policy and the armed forces
bureaux at the centre were brought firmly under his thumb, the military dis-
trict commanders were invested with considerable autonomy. No one denied
that this new organisation represented a considerable improvement over its
predecessor, for it reduced red tape and permitted the elimination of 1,000
redundant jobs in St Petersburg alone.
32
Yet it had its drawbacks notwith-
standing. It has, for example, been argued that perhaps the most important
of the main administrations – the Main Staff – was statutorily burdened with
so many secondary responsibilities that authentic general staff work suffered
in consequence.
33
And the military district system, although a salutary anti-
dote to the rigidity and paralysis of the military administration of the previous
decades, led in the end to the fragmentation of intelligence collection and
strategic planning.
A second impediment to military progress in the late imperial period was
that vital reforms were often inconsistent, incomplete or distorted in imple-
mentation. The military conscription reform provides a good illustration.
Miliutin clearly saw that Russia’s traditional approach to military recruitment
had become dangerously obsolete in an era of mass politics and mass armies
and had to be scrapped. By dint of arduous political struggle Miliutin and his
supporters were able to secure the promulgation in 1874 of a law that instituted
a universal military service obligation in Russia. Henceforth the majority of
the empire’s young men would be eligible to be drafted into the army as pri-
vate soldiers, regardless of the estate or social class to which they belonged.
Miliutin was intent on accomplishing three goals with the statute of 1874. First,
since it involved simultaneously widening the pool of prospective draftees and
cutting the term of active service, it would give the army the modern system
of military reserves that Miliutin regarded as an indispensable precondition
for victory in any future European war. Second, Miliutin anticipated that the
act would indirectly promote literacy and an elevation in the cultural level of
the empire’s population, for it also decreased the term of service required of
any draftee in accordance with his education. Although the standard period
of service was set at seven years, a man with a university degree had to spend
only six months with the colours, and a secondary school graduate only a
year and a half. Even the most rudimentary primary education shaved three
years off the term of active duty. Third, because the law proclaimed military
service to be a universal obligation, Miliutin hoped that the new system would
32 Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets,p.14.
33 P. A. Zaionchkovskii, Voennye reformy 1860–1870godov v Rossii (Moscow: Izd. MGU, 1952),
p. 106. O. R. Airapetov, Zabytaia kar’era ‘russkogo Moltke’. Nikolai Nikolaevich Obruchev
(1830–1904) (St Petersburg: Izd. ‘Aleteiia’, 1998), p. 98.
544
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
The imperial army
eventually produce a culture of citizenship in Russia. The common experience
of service was supposed to break down the distinctions of estate, class and rank,
thus stimulating dynastic loyalty, unity and patriotism. He strongly believed
that an army that evinced those traits would be immeasurably superior to one
remarkable chiefly for its bovine obedience.
The statute of 1874, and its subsequent modifications, clearly did amelio-
rate the Russian Empire’s military manpower problem. In 1881 the active army
comprised 844,000 troops and in 1904 in excess of a million.
34
By 1914 the active
army numbered 1.4 million men and the active reserve 2.6 million, while over
6 million more were enrolled in the various classes of the territorial ‘mili-
tia’ (opolchenie). But it nonetheless deserves emphasis that the overwhelming
majority of young men in the empire never received military training at all
under the 1874 conscription system. The 1874 law had introduced a universal
obligation to serve, not universal military service, and contained articles grant-
ing exemptions for nationality, profession and family circumstances that were
more liberal than those that obtained in any other major European country.
There were several reasons for this, but as a partial upshot, while in late-
nineteenth-century France four-fifths of those draft eligible passed through
the army’s ranks, and in Germany, over half, in Russia barely 25 per cent–
30 per cent of any given age cohort of 21-year-old males received military
training.
35
This meant that in Russia it was impossible for the army to act
as a ‘school for the nation’ in the same way as armies are said to have done
elsewhere in Europe. Nor was the concept of equal citizenship well served
by the radically reduced length of service awarded to men with educational
qualifications. Moreover, when the casualties started to mount in the First
World War the empire experienced an authentic military manpower crisis.
It was true that the post-reform army was more heterogeneous than the
army of the eighteenth century had ever been, and not just from the standpoint
of social class or ‘estate’. Despite the 1874 law’s grant of exemptions to a
variety of national minorities, as time passed the army increasingly became
a multiethnic force. In addition to Russians, Jews, Poles, Latvians, Estonians,
Germans, Georgians, Baskhirs and Tatars were all represented in its ranks,
as were men from the Northern Caucasus and Transcaucasia after 1887.The
government tried to mitigate the effects of ethnic dilution by decreeing that
34 P. A. Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie i russkaia armiia na rubezhe XIX–XX stoletii (Moscow:
Izd. Mysl’, 1973), p. 123.
35 David R. Jones,‘ImperialRussia’s Forces atWar’, in Alan R. Millet and MurrayWilliamson
(eds.), Military Effectiveness, vol. I: The First World War (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1988),
p. 278.
545
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
Foreign policy and the armed forces
75 per cent of the personnel in the combat unit had to be Great Russians,
but that target could not have been met without counting Ukrainians and
Belorussians as such.
36
In any event, it is clear that military service in the
post-reform era did not build unity across ethnic lines any more successfully
than it did across the boundaries of juridical class. Ethnic minorities met with
considerable discrimination within the army, and it did not help much when
in the 1890s the state adopted a policy of Russification in the borderlands,
particularly Poland and Finland.
37
Given the temporary nature of military
service, as well as the heterogeneity within the ranks, the soldier’s artel could
no longer perform the integrative function as wellas it had prior to the Crimean
War.
A third obstacle to the modernisation of the army in the post-reform era
had to do with its leadership. The Russian army consistently experienced more
difficulty in attracting and retaining capable non-commissioned officers than
did any other first-class army in Europe. In 1882 the army had only 25 per
cent of the senior NCOs it needed, and in 1903 there was still a deficit of
54 per cent.
38
With respect to the officer corps, the problem was not so much
quantity as quality. Nobles continued to dominate the highest echelons of
command, and at the turn of the century over 90 per cent of the empire’s
generals came from hereditary noble families. Yet of the 42,777 officers then
on duty almost half had been born commoners.
39
While this statistic may
reveal something about social mobility in late Imperial Russia, it also reflects
a much more ominous trend: the relative deterioration in the officer corps’
pay, perquisites and status that occurred over the last decades of the ancien
r
´
egime. The salary schedule for regular Russian army officers was set by law in
1859 and changed little over the next forty years, with two unpleasant results.
First, the purchasing power of an officer’s compensation tended to erode with
the passage of time. But second, by the 1890s Russian army officers not only
found themselves underpaid by comparison with their counterparts abroad,
but also lagging behind civilian bureaucrats at home. In these circumstances,
and given the opportunities available in the growing private sector, is it any
wonder that the army began to lose out in the competition to recruit the most
36 Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie i russkaia armiia,p.119.
37 One aspect of that policy was the state’s effort to dissolve the separate Finnish army,
and draft Finns under the same regulations that applied to other groups. This initiative
was met with stiff resistance. P. Luntinen, The Imperial Russian Army and Navy in Finland
1808–1918 (Helsinki: SHS, 1997), pp. 159–70.
38 Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie i russkaia armiia,pp.121–3.
39 A. I. Panov, Ofitsery v russkoi revoliutsii 1905 –07 gg. (Moscow: Regional’naia obshchestven-
naia organizatsiia ofitserov ‘Demos’, 1996), p. 19.
546
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
The imperial army
talented, and best-educated young men for its officer corps? Of course, there
still remained wealthy aristocrats for whom a posting to one of the prestigious
guard regiments was socially de rigueur. Yet in the non-exclusive regiments,
especially those of the army infantry, the proportion of officers who were
both humbly born and poorly schooled rose steeply. Of the 1,072 men holding
commissions in 1895 whose fathers had been peasants, 997 or over 93 per cent
were clustered in the army infantry.
40
A decline in the prestige of the officer corps accompanied its social dilution
and economic distress. But this development was also in part attributable to the
burgeoning hostility of the intelligentsia towards the regime and its organs of
coercion, the army and the police. Certainly a decay in the image of the officer
is observable in the pages of Russian literature. By the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries, novels, essays and stories by such popular writers as
Garshin, Kuprin, Andreev and Korolenko disseminated negative stereotypes
of army officers, depicting them as lazy, ignorant, uncouth, homicidal and
frequently drunk.
41
Compounding these woes was the inner factiousness of the officer corps.
Imperial army officers were united by their antipathy towards the outer civilian
world but by not much else. Officers in one branch of the service typically
disdained those who belonged to the others, while the graduates of the most
prestigious and specialised military academies were inclined to sneer at all
who lacked their educational attainments. This deficiency in cohesion meant
that the officer corps as a whole was poorly situated to develop a strong
corporate spirit or articulate its collective interests. Naturally enough, the
government did make attempts to heal the divisions within the corps by
legislation. But such laws as the statute of May 1894 that required officers to
duel over points of honour or be cashiered were wrongheaded and ineffective
remedies.
Nonetheless, the imperial officer corps did contain a thin stratum of mili-
tary professionals, of whom the majority were so-called ‘general staff officers’
(GSOs). To gain entry into this prestigious fraternity, an officer had to win
admission to the Nicholas Academy of the General Staff, and complete its
full academic programme with distinction. Thereafter he was entitled to be
known for the rest of his career as an ‘officer of the general staff’ regardless
of actual military assignment. A true intellectual elite, the GSOs occupied
the most important staff billets and had a monopoly on intelligence work.
40 Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie i russkaia armiia,pp.204, 225.
41 Fuller, Civil–Military Conflict,pp.143–4.
547
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
Foreign policy and the armed forces
But they also received a disproportionate share of army commands. Although
they constituted no more than 2 per cent of the entire officer corps, in 1913 the
GSOs were in command of over a third of the army’s infantry regiments and
over three-quarters of its infantry divisions.
42
In the last twenty years of the nineteenth century, Russia’s military pro-
fessionals, including many GSOs, agonised over the declining quality of the
officer corps, advocated the raising of standards and tirelessly preached that
a young officer’s best use of free time was education, rather than dissipation.
After the icy shock of the Japanese defeat there were military professionals
who concluded that the entire military system had to be regenerated, and
that the empire’s population had to be militarised and readied for total war.
Such people, whom their opponents sometimes labelled ‘young turks’, argued
that the ultimate pledge of future victory would be Russia’s transformation
into a true ‘nation in arms’. Some, like A. A. Neznamov, demanded that
Russian adopt a unified military doctrine, that is, a set of binding principles
to govern military preparations in peace and the conduct of operations in
war. In 1912, however, Emperor Nicholas II announced that ‘military doc-
trine consists in doing everything that I order’ and thereby stifled any further
discussion.
43
Nicholas’s interference on this occasion may have stemmed from aware-
ness that the vision of a Russian ‘nation in arms’ profoundly contradicted
the political idea of autocracy. Russia was not a nation, but a multinational
empire, and the glue that held it together was supposed to be allegiance to the
Romanov dynasty, not veneration of some national abstraction. But what this
episode also highlights is another chronic problem besetting higher military
leadership in the twilight of the old regime: that of imperial meddling. This
came in several forms. There were, for example, grand dukes whose positions
as heads of army inspectorates permitted them to exert enormous influence
on military decision-making, whether they were qualified to do so or not. Yet
the most noisome way in which the court retarded military progress had to do
with the distribution of promotions and appointments. Russia’s last autocrats,
and Nicholas II in particular, were often prone to select (and remove) military
bureaucrats and field commanders more on the basis of personal loyalty than
competence. This lamentable practice occurred even during times of military
42 E. Iu. Sergeev, ‘Inaia zemlia, inoe nebo’. Zapad i voennaia elita Rossii 1900–1914 (Moscow:
Institut vseobshchei istorii RAN, 2001), pp. 45–6.
43 Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets,pp.211–16; Fuller, Civil–Military Conflict,pp.241–2;
Sergeev, ‘Inaia zemlia’, p. 43; J. Sanborn, ‘Military Reform, Moral Reform and the End of
the Old Regime’, in Lohr and Poe, The Military and Society,pp.514, 524.
548
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
The imperial army
emergency, such as the First World War. General A. A. Polivanov may have
been a ruthless, vindictive opportunist but he was also a masterly adminis-
trator who, after taking charge of the War Ministry in the summer of 1915,
made immeasurable contributions to the revival of the army after the catas-
trophic defeats it suffered in Poland that spring. Yet despite this outstanding
performance, when Nicholas II became displeased at Polivanov’s co-operation
with such ‘social’ organisations as the War Industries Committees, he abruptly
dismissed his war minister after barely nine months in office. Polivanov’s suc-
cessor, although honest and straightforward, was considerably his inferior in
ability.
A fourth and final drag on the Russian army’s capability to adapt to change
was financial. Traditionally, the majority of the army’s budget had gone to
‘subsistence costs’ – the expenses of feeding, clothing and housing its troops.
44
But in the second half of the nineteenth century the rapid pace of military-
technological change demanded heavy investments in new armaments. Still
worse, by the late 1860s it grew apparent to Russia’s military elite that a coun-
try’s transportation infrastructure was indisputably crucial to military power.
It was widely believed that Prussia had won the three wars of German unifica-
tion in large measure owing to her skilful exploitation of railways to mobilise
and concentrate her forces. Indeed, victory in future war might hinge entirely
on the speed with which an army mobilised, for the war might be decided in
its early battles, and the outcome of those would depend on the quantity of
troops committed. Russia, however, was a poor country disadvantaged by its
enormous size and its relatively sparse railway network.
The Russian Ministry of War consistently applied for extra appropriations
to fund both upgrades in weaponry and strategic railway construction, but
just as consistently met stiff opposition from the Ministry of Finance, where
it was held that solvency and economic growth were only possible if military
spending was restrained. Although Miliutin and his brilliant assistant N. N.
Obruchev did pry loose enough money to pay for some rearmament, in 1873
Finance Minister Reutern blocked their plan for the development of Russia’s
western defences on fiscal grounds. Since the Russo-Turkish War left the
empire 4.9 billion roubles in debt, there was little sunshine for the army in the
state budgets of the 1880s and 1890s. The government did authorise the War
Ministry’s purchase of magazine rifles in 1888, but the army’s share of state
expendituresfell below20 per cent by the mid-1890s and was to remain therefor
44 David R. Jones, ‘The Soviet Defence Burden through the Prism of History’, in Carl
Jakobson (ed.), The Soviet Defence Enigma (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), p. 161.
549
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
Foreign policy and the armed forces
almost a decade. The boom in state-subsidised railway construction during
this period did not profit the army very much either, because commercial
considerations usually trumped strategic ones in decisions about where to lay
down track.
45
Deprived of the wherewithal to build railroads and fortresses to check a
German or Austrian attack, the War Ministry redeployed the army so as to
concentrate a higher proportion of its active strength close to the western fron-
tiers. By 1892, 45 per cent of the army was billeted in the empire’s westernmost
military districts. This measure was, however, an inadequate substitute for a
thorough technological preparation of the likely theatre of war. The signing
of the alliance with France that same year did bring the army some breath-
ing space and rescued the military leadership from the nightmarish prospect
of having to fight the Germans solo. Yet new fiscal woes cropped up at the
turn of the century, for reckless imperialism in East Asia gave the army new
territories to defend and sorely taxed the military budget. Underfunding and
overextension produced a situation in which Russia was fully ready for war
neither in the East nor in the West. When the Russo-Japanese War began, six
of the forts that were supposed to guard Port Arthur from the landward side
were still under construction, and none of them boasted any heavy ordnance.
The Japanese war and repressive service in the revolution had drained the
strength of the Russian army, and it was imperative that it be reconstituted. The
first signs of military recovery manifested themselves in the summer of 1908
when the general staff issued a comprehensive report that detailed ten years’
worth of essential reforms and improvements. Some of this plan was actually
implemented under the supervision of the controversial V. A. Sukhomlinov
(war minister 1909–15). Sukhomlinov reorganised the army, shifted the centre
of gravity of its deployment back to the east, introduced a territorial cadre
reserve system, augmented Russia’s stocks of machine guns and artillery, and
purchased the empire’s first military aircraft. He was able to pay for these
innovations in part because of the enthusiasm of influential Duma politicians
for the cause of national security, in part because of the support of the emperor,
and in part because of the upsurge in Russian economic growth that began
in 1910. The empire’s revenues increased by a billion roubles between 1910
and 1914, and the army was a principal beneficiary. In October 1913 Nicholas II
approved the ‘Big Programme’ of extraordinary defence expenditure, which
mandated an increase in the size of the peacetime army by nearly 40 per
45 Fuller, Civil–Military Conflict,pp.49, 63–4.
550
Cambridge Histories Online © Cambridge University Press, 2008
The imperial army
cent.
46
Army appropriations totalled 709 million roubles in 1913, and by that
point Russia was spending more on her army than any other state in Europe.
Yet it is important to put these developments in context. Russia’s plans for
military modernisation may have been impressive, but they were not designed
to be complete until 1917 at the earliest and were overtaken by the premature
commencement of the general European war. Indeed, there is evidence that
one reason Germany chose war in 1914 was the awareness that it would be
easier to defeat Russia before her military reforms had taken full effect. More-
over, although the increase in army spending in the last few years of peace was
dramatic, it was not ample enough to fund all of the War Ministry’s initiatives,
including some regarded as urgent. For example, while in 1909 Sukhomlinov
made a persuasive case that Russia needed to double the number of heavy
artillery pieces in her inventory, he did not succeed in obtaining the 110 million
roubles this would have cost. The problem here was the army’s resource com-
petition with the navy.Beginning in 1907,the imperial government adoptedone
expensive and unnecessary naval construction programme after another. The
state lavished millions on its fleet primarily for considerations of international
prestige, but as subsequent events were to prove, ocean-going dreadnoughts
were luxuries that Russia could ill afford.
47
Conclusion: the World War
The First World War confronted Russia with the full implications of her back-
wardness. To begin with, her Central Power opponents outclassed her both in
transportation infrastructure and in military technology. Germany’s railway
network was twelve times as dense as Russia’s, while even Austria-Hungary’s
was seven times as dense.
48
Then, too, Russian artillery was inferior to
German, and Germany held a crucial advantage over Russia in heavy artillery.
By the end of 1914, the unanticipated tempo of combat operations had nearly
depleted Russia’s pre-war stockpile of artillery shells. This happened in other
belligerent countries as well, but most of them were positioned to reorganise
their industrial sectors for war production more quickly than Russia could. To
be sure, Russia had the fifth largest industrial economy in the world in 1914,but
that economy was unevenly developed and not self-sufficient. The chemical
46 Peter Gatrell, Government,IndustryandRearmamentinRussia,1900–1914: TheLast Argument
of Tsarism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pp. 129–34.
47 K. F. Shatsillo, Ot portsmutskogo mira k pervoi mirovoi voine. Generaly i politika (Moscow:
Rosspen, 2000), pp. 102, 139, 146, 159, 344.
48 Gatrell, Government, Industry and Rearmament,p.305.
551