Dorothy Thompson

Buffalo Evening News/February 16, 1928

Back of Standing Army of 562,000 Men Are Countless Hordes of Picturesque Fighters.

A vast experiment if government according to political and economic theories never before put to practice has been going on for ten years in Russia behind a veil of censorship, conjecture and rumor. The Buffalo Evening News and the New York Evening Post sent Dorothy Thompson, a Buffalo girl, into Russia to survey the true conditions. This is the tenth article in a series placing before the American public for the first time a detailed revelation of the Russian picture and a discerning insight into what the Soviet government and its aims actually mean to the remainder of the world.

The vast Red Square—largest open place in any European capital—is filled with soldiers. Peaked caps, Kalmuck helmets, covering ears and throats—above their brows the Red Soviet star. Heavy furze coats, khaki brown, reaching as protection against the bitter Russian cold, to the ground; the thickest and warmest of boots.

On spirited horses, in cloaks of thick black wool, and tall hats of lambskin—Cossacks. Many of them are old men. Their beards fall on their chests. Once terror of the peasantry, last of Russian troops to remain loyal to the Whites, they are today the pride of the Red Army.

The sky is darkened by airplanes. Lined up along the sides of the square are tanks and machine guns. Before the troops parades a man in the trimmest of uniforms: Woroschilow, People’s Commissar for War. He salutes them: “Comrades.” They return the salute.

Armed Factory Workers

The mass begins to move. Their ranks are unbroken, their step firm. They parade in silence past a small building, a low truncated and terraced wooden pyramid. It stands in the center of the long, crenellated Kremlin wall. Atop it are honor guests—officials of the Communist party—commissars. Tanks rattle by, making a hideous clatter on the cobblestones; horses rush after them, dragging machine guns.

From the two entrances at the left, from under the shrine of the Iberian virgin of the old Greek church, masses begin to pour into the square. They are not, like the soldiers, in khaki, but wear blue coats and trousers—the robot uniform of the factory worker. Red bands shine on their arms, on each shoulder a new rifle. They fall in silently behind the khaki-cloaked marching soldiers.

As the groups come to the low wooden building, the sabers of the officers flash from their scabbards. Cossacks, on whipped-up-horses, bend low over their saddles, unsheathing scimitar-shaped swords; the airplanes swoop lower in a thunder of whirring motors; the machine guns and tanks are speeded up, in an ear-splitting clamor; a dozen brass bands play: “Arise ye Prisoners of Starvation: Arise ye Wretched of the Earth!”

Salute to Lenin

The soldiers pause in their march, with hands lifted. The silent civilians lift red-banded arms. They salute a man who lies within these wooden walls, in a glass case, with the Order of the Red Flag on his breast. They salute Lenin, founder of a new state, and of a new world crusade.

I do not think that anyone who has seen a Red army demonstration will ever again treat Communism as a joke, or be able to erase from his mind a picture sinister for the civilization of the Western world. It is impossible not to be impressed by this sight. Ten years ago the kernel of this army was a war-tired, bootless, half-starved mob of disheartened bandits, without officers, enlisted now in the service of the Reds, deserting now to the service of the Whites, led by a Jewish journalist who used to live in The Bronx.

Out of this incredible mass, which at the end of 1920 included 5,000,000 men, the Soviet state has kneaded a compact army of 562,000.

No longer are officers elected from the ranks. They are schooled in politics and war and appointed from above. They wear their orders on their sleeves instead of on their shoulders; the names of their rank are changed; the discipline remains the same. Their uniforms are not flashing in Czarist scarlet and gold. Their bearing and deportment are military. If they address the soldier “Comrade,” they expect no less rigid obedience from him.

Military Budget Rises

The Soviet government continually asserts that its military expenditures and the number of troops have been reduced. The size of the Red Army has, it is true, been reduced from year to year. Military expenditures have not, however, decreased. While the number of troops was being decreased, the military budget increased in 1924-25 ten per cent, and in 1926-27 by 17 per cent.

It is true that the rest of the budget increased proportionately at a much more rapid rate. It is, however, also true, that under the Soviet system, which puts no parliamentary check upon the budget, there is nothing to prevent military expenditures being listed elsewhere than under the Commissariat for War and Navy. The G. P. U., which is an armed, highly trained military and civil intelligence service, does not come under this budget, nor under Woroschilow’s commissariat, and education is a fine item under which to place expenditures for military training.

But the important thing about the Red Army is the evolution in its whole system of organization. Comparison with expenditures for the forces of the czar is specious as a measure for testing the size and efficiency of the Red Army. The czar’s army was overloaded with heavy salaries for officers: it was rotten with corruption. Neither is true of the Red Army, nor is a comparison with countries possessing large standing forces conclusive.

Universal Recruiting

The volunteer system has been replaced by universal recruiting. All youths between 19 and 21 are called up for training, after the fashion of the French “preparation militaire.” It is true that this system, according to foreign military experts whom I consulted, does not yet extend to the periphery of this vast country, but with the immense manpower at her disposal the Soviet Union now selects only one-fourth of the yearly recruits.

And regular short-term training of “substitute reserves,” which in other countries are not trained at all once the compulsory period is over, makes a reserve army which could quickly replace the present one.

Back of this army stands a most imposing system of volunteer organization. First of all: the factory workers. These are the men and women I have described as marching with the regular soldiers of the Red Army demonstrations. In every factory in Russia the workers are organized in units—the famous Russian cell system—and already they are partly outfitted with the most modern 6.5 millimeter repeaters, model “Federov.”

The most vital part of the popular defense movement is concentrated in the three organizations, now merged into one: Defense Aid, Friends of Aviation and Society for Chemical Warfare. The entire group is popularly called Osso-avia-chem. This is somewhat like the former Fleetverein in Germany, which in the Wilhelmian epoch built up public opinion and raised funds for the Tirpitz marine program.