"The Ice March": How a Devastating Defeat Turned Into a Heroic Triumph
This is probably one of the most famous events of the Civil War and a pivotal moment in the history of the White movement. There are numerous sources on it, yet it is an event that has become highly mythologized.
It is sometimes referred to as the “baptism of fire” of the White cause, which, in my opinion, is not entirely accurate. Some White Guards had already been through their first combat engagements—in Moscow or on the Don itself, where the local Cossacks were almost unanimously refusing to oppose the Bolsheviks at that time.
Nevertheless, it was the “Ice March” that became the defining legend of the White movement. Its participants (the survivors) were later called “pioneers” and rose quickly through the ranks. This did not sit well with the other officers who had joined the Whites later on.
Behind their backs (and later openly), these “latecomers” referred to the “first settlers” as “princes and little princes.”
Some modern “White Cause supporters” even celebrate their own “Defender of the Fatherland Day” on February 22. They say that was when the Volunteer Army, led by L. G. Kornilov and M. V. Alekseev (who strongly disliked each other), set out for the Kuban.
If we count from February 22, the First Kuban Campaign ended in May. And de facto, it ended in a clear failure—a very severe one at that.
Yekaterinodar was not captured; Commander-in-Chief L. G. Kornilov was killed, and with him—at least several hundred of the White Army’s finest fighters, those very volunteers—officers and cadets.
“Without dwelling on an analysis of each battle, the outstanding heroism and self-sacrifice of the volunteers, and the army’s undeniably high combat effectiveness and fortitude, it must be noted that the campaign failed to achieve its primary strategic objective.”
Moreover, from a purely military standpoint, it can be considered a failure.
Instead of using Yekaterinodar as a base and establishing a new center of anti-Bolshevik resistance in the Kuban, there was a failed assault on the city and a retreat back into the steppes. Instead of new reinforcements, there were enormous losses in battles against vastly superior enemy forces, and the best fighters were killed.
Instead of rest and preparation for new battles—endless fighting, grueling marches, a constant state of being “on the brink” of life and death, and an excruciating strain on their strength.
“In this regard, it might have been far more effective to carry out Kornilov’s plans to retreat to winter quarters or break through to Astrakhan…” (c) V. Zh. Tsvetkov. Lavr Georgievich Kornilov.
The Whites even had to reinforce their “colored units”—which were still being formed at the time—with Kuban Cossacks, but the latter, like the Don Cossacks, were not very eager to join. Yes, they managed to link up with a detachment of the Kuban Rada, but later that detachment, too, was severely depleted.
Here’s a very curious point: Lavr Georgievich, as if foreseeing the end of his own life and other hardships, was very reluctant to go to the Kuban steppes. One moment he was planning to go to Siberia, then to Turkestan, then to Astrakhan; at other times, he proposed retreating with a small detachment of Don Cossacks to local winter quarters, hoping to “wait it out” there.
L. G. Kornilov is often described as a very reckless and impassioned man (or, to put it bluntly, “a lion with a ram’s head”). But in this instance, L. G. Kornilov was actually trying to be cautious.
It was General M. V. Alekseev (who had insisted on this course of action) who led the volunteers on such a dangerous mission; for some reason, he is often called a downright brilliant strategist (though during the Revolution and the Civil War, almost all of his plans somehow failed).
The White forces’ casualties are not known with certainty and vary, but they were very high. The officers’ regiment had been bolstered by Kuban Cossacks (including mobilized supporters of the Kuban government), while almost nothing remained of Kornilov’s forces.
Not only did L. G. Kornilov perish near Yekaterinodar, but so did a significant number of his most loyal followers.
“By the time the fighting for Yekaterinodar ended in late April, the Kornilov Regiment had effectively ceased to exist. Its strength numbered only 67 bayonets.
With the Cossack reinforcements incorporated into its ranks, the regiment arrived at the Gnachbau colony on April 2 (15) with a total of only 100 men. Most of the officers—and many of the front-line soldiers—were out of action…
“The total losses of the Kornilov Regiment during the campaign amounted to 2,229 killed and wounded—nearly twice the size of the regiment that set out on the campaign…” (c) R. G. Gagkuev. The White Movement in Southern Russia: Military Organization, Sources of Recruitment, and Social Composition.
So it turns out that almost all the “true Kornilovites” were killed in that “Ice March”—along with their legendary leader.
In terms of fame and charisma, the Whites had no other figures like them. M. V. Alekseev did not have long to live, and by no means everyone supported him. A. I. Denikin did not seek leadership; previously, he had always played more of a supporting role.
It can be said that during the First Kuban Campaign, the Whites lost both their most famous leader and a significant portion of their truly ideologically committed “core members.”
The remnants of the Dobrarmiya survived only thanks to the expanded German intervention, the arrival of the “Drozdovites,” and a shift in the Cossacks’ sentiments. Nevertheless, A. I. Denikin himself later recalled that after the First Kuban Campaign, the volunteers seriously considered “disbanding,” and some left of their own accord (since the Whites in the Dobrarma were signing four-month contracts at the time and had the right to do so).
However, the surviving members of the First Expedition later grew in strength, especially after Germany’s defeat and with tangible assistance from the Entente (including pressure on the Cossacks—the British effectively ordered them to join Denikin’s forces).
So the “Ice March” became, in a sense, the “greatest legend of the White movement,” and it even came to be portrayed as some kind of significant success (although, for example, in early 1918 the Bolsheviks were far more concerned about the Germans and Petliura’s forces—the Dobroarmiya was engaged in “battles of local significance”).
They say, yes, they lost many—but they managed to retain some of their personnel and, on the whole, were not completely crushed or wiped out.
“It was precisely these people who became the core and soul of the White movement in southern Russia; almost all the prominent commanders of the White units emerged from their ranks (virtually all battalion and regiment commanders, and most company commanders of the Volunteer Army, were ‘veterans of the first campaign’), and many of them rose to high ranks…” (c) S. V. Volkov. The Tragedy of the Russian Officer Corps.
In exile, the significance of the “Ice March” perhaps grew even stronger. People began to openly idealize it and portray it as some kind of miracle. And based on this, they even began to develop certain political concepts.
“The march of three thousand into the Kuban steppes—a march that instilled a heroic spirit in the army, a spirit that, throughout all three years, inspired people in the most desperate, most astonishing struggle against the horror of Bolshevism, a campaign that, even to this day, as a vivid memory, lifts up the weary, those ready to fall…” (c) N. N. Lvov. The White Movement. 1924 Report (Belgrade).
Then again, I can’t say that the mythologization of the past is limited to the white movement. Anyone can draw parallels with other periods or regimes.
Here’s the question: what should we focus on first—inspiring stories of triumph (even if they involve real tactical successes or spectacular attacks) or actual results…
Source — https://dzen.ru/a/Z4K5MZHKvXOZ7Dag
