We have received the following precise report from our private correspondent in Sevastopol about the glorious marine uprising in the city, which has been presented in entirely the wrong light in the German bourgeois press and in the semi-official Russian telegrams:
Sevastopol, November 30, 1905. I wish in the following to give a short sketch of the momentous events that have played out here in recent weeks.
On the day after the “Freedom Manifesto” of October 31, a crowd of 10,000 gathered here to a tremendous meeting, and then proceeded to the prison to release the political prisoners. Members of the military hiding in the prison opened fire on the crowd, killing eight and wounding around twenty.
Two days later an ostentatious burial for the fallen took place, which numerous revolutionary organizations attended. Speeches were held beside open graves. Captain (Second Class) Pyotr Schmidt gave one of the best speeches. He thereupon was arrested on order of the Commanding Chief of the Black Sea Fleet, Admiral Chukhnin.
Every Sunday over the next four weeks, meetings took place on Sea Boulevard, where the immediate demands of the revolutionary parties were explained to the people. Admiral Chukhnin strictly forbade the sailors and soldiers to take part in these meetings, and posted patrols at the entrances to the boulevard for this purpose. Embittered by this order, the sailors and soldiers organized meetings in the barracks and on the warships moored at Sevastopol, where the local Social Democrats had been energetically agitating. Schmidt, who had been released again after two weeks [of] prison, was now thrust by events into the foreground, and played a most lively role in the subsequent developments.
Starting on November 21, daily meetings were held on the square between the marine barracks (i.e., the barracks of the sailors currently stationed on land) and the barracks of the Brest infantry regiment. Ferment among the sailors swelled. At first the government organs adopted a “wait-and-see” attitude. On November 24, another meeting was held. Rear Admiral Pisarevsky then issued an order to the detachment of sailors from the so-called battle company, who were carrying out regular duties for that specific weekday, to disperse the assembly by firing on it. Petrov, a sailor who heard the order, without pausing, shot at Pisarevsky and Stein, the army officer, with the words, “Better that you two should die, then that thousands should die because of you.” Pisarevsky was seriously injured, while Stein died that same night.
On Saturday [November] 25, the sailors of the fleet barracks gathered yet again. The soldiers from the Brest Infantry Regiment joined them as did one group of port workers, and they all paraded in a tremendous demonstration to the sounds of the sailors’ band, cheered on by elated locals, toward the barracks of the Bialystok infantry regiment—a substantial distance—to win its soldiers for their cause. En route the radicals encountered the Bialystok regiment suited for battle, and a company of artillery. The Bialystok regiment’s band trumpeted out the national anthem and the regiment displayed their guns. In order to emphasize that the demonstration was thoroughly peaceful, the radical marine band also started up with “God Save the Tsar.” Whereupon the Bialystok regiment and the artillery turned around and headed for the field camps located outside the city. The demonstrators remained together even longer, conducted a meeting in front of the barracks of the Brest Infantry Regiment and then returned to the marine barracks.
The government meanwhile was aiming to isolate the sailors as far as possible and win back the soldiers of the Brest Infantry Regiment, who remained largely unaffected by propaganda. No tried and trusted methods could help this time. On Saturday night the military chaplains were mobilized, brandy was shared out among the soldiers, and these soldiers, now drunk in a double sense of the word, were fired up against their brothers, the sailors fighting for freedom. During the night, a new oath of loyalty was taken from the soldiers and the officers of the regiments. Those who hadn’t appeared in the barracks in the preceding days again took control of the command of these men.
While this was going on, the sailors formulated the following seventeen demands and presented them to the authorities: (1) Sailors and soldiers imprisoned for political reasons should be released, their safety guaranteed, and all sailors handed over to a public court. (2) All so-called battle companies and Cossacks are to be removed from the city. Abolition of martial law. Abolition of the death penalty. (3) Immunity for persons in the delegations. (4) Complete freedom outside hours of [military] duty. The right to visit all public houses and assemblies. (5) Establishment of libraries and reading rooms at the state’s expense. Subscriptions to books, newspapers and journals according to the soldiers’ wishes. (6) Polite treatment of the men by the officers; they should address them with the polite [Russian] form of “you.” Abolition of use of titles outside hours of duty. (8) Reduction of the service period for soldiers down to two years (at present three years eight months), for sailors down to four years (at present seven years). (10) Immediate discharge of all reservists and of all soldiers who have finished serving their period of active duty. (17) The officers should give the men two hours of lessons of a general nature during their period of service.
Points 7, 9, and 11 to 16 [not listed above] are purely economic demands, like raising salaries, annual leave of one month’s duration, pensions for invalids, and regulation of clothing and nutrition. Extra work should be carried out not by the soldiers but by paid workers; a prohibition on using soldiers for purposes of domestic service, etc.
In addition to these points, the sailors and soldiers are formally supporting all-Russian demands for: (1) The immediate convocation of a Constituent Assembly on the basis of a universal, direct, equal, and secret right to vote; and (2) support of the eight-hour working day.
The sailors’ program was distributed everywhere on Monday, November 14, and posted on street corners.
The sailors had repeatedly requested that Admiral Chukhnin appear at the marine barracks to listen to their demands. Yet, although they gave guarantees for his personal safety and although a special patrol was even sent for his protection to the field camp where the general was stationed, Chukhnin did not appear.
The officers of the marine barracks (the so-called Lazarev barracks) should have withdrawn from the barracks by Saturday, November 12. Discipline was maintained by the sailors themselves in an exemplary fashion. Patrols traversed through the city and arrested any sailors who had left barracks without a permit. The brandy shops were closed and you couldn’t see a single drunk anywhere; a rare phenomenon in Russia on a public holiday. A sailor who was wandering soberly through the streets with a brandy bottle in his hand was immediately taken to the cells by a passing patrol. The influence of Social Democracy on the men’s conduct was unmistakable, with the result that the types of excess that would have given the authorities the desired reason to go in and establish “order” were entirely avoided. The “mutineers” tried to emphasize their desire for peace at every opportunity.
On Sunday afternoon, an extremely large meeting took place on Sea Boulevard, this time with sailors and soldiers participating. Captain Schmidt delivered a mesmerizing speech, in which he solicited support for the second all-Russian political mass strike. Sunday and Monday passed in an utterly peaceful manner.
On Monday, the revolutionary sailors disseminated an appeal in which they requested the local population to remain peaceful and not believe rumors that were being maliciously spread suggesting that they intended to encourage looting in the city. The sailors reassured the population that the highest degree of public order would be maintained and that they would only conduct an armed entry into the city to protect its inhabitants in case the Black Hundreds should dare organize rabble-rousing against the Jews, or engage in general looting.
This appeal made the best possible impression on the population and aroused even warmer sympathy for the battling sailors. Their impeccable conduct was rewarded with unanimous praise, and sailors passing in the streets were greeted by many locals with handshakes and friendly smiles. The atmosphere was one of elevation and reliability. Not a single sign indicated that the sailors’ movement would meet with such a bloody end. Despite all this, many inhabitants did flee to the surrounding settlements, scared after the events in Kronstadt and Vladivostok. The closure of shops, ordered by the chief of police with regard to the demonstration on November 15, in conjunction with the state of siege declared on the fortress of Sevastopol on November 27, played a large part in intimidating the already terrified inhabitants still further.
In the context thus described, November 28 drew nearer, a day that has now become one to commemorate in Russia’s history. It was a Tuesday, a clear, sunny day. The armored cruiser Ochakov was situated in the outer roadstead alongside four torpedo boats that were sailing with it. The ironclad battleship Panteleimon (formerly named Potemkin) was located a certain distance away from the Ochakov. On Monday already, thirty marine officers had been arrested from the ranks of the sailors and brought aboard the Ochakov, because it was reasonably believed that the presence of the officers would encourage the government to guide the conflict toward a peaceful resolution. A number of civil servants attached to the marines, who had made themselves unpopular during their period of service, had also been arrested and interned in the Lazarev barracks. The arrests were carried out by the patrols in the most correct manner possible, and nothing could be found wanting in the courtesy with which the internees were treated.
Early on Tuesday morning, a delegation of insurgent sailors from the marine barracks made their way on a small steamship to the Ochakov cruiser, where they were greeted with a loud hurrah. The Ochakov hoisted the red flag. Shortly after, the delegation, led by Schmidt and protected by a torpedo boat destroyer, the Svirepy, made its way toward the [ship] Prut. On board were found the sailors imprisoned in the course of the disturbances in June 1905 on the Potemkin, Prut, and Georgi Pobedonostsev. A large number of prisoners were released, without any resistance whatsoever by the guards, and were brought aboard the Ochakov to the sounds of roaring cheers. When the steamer with the emancipated prisoners sailed past the Potemkin, it was greeted enthusiastically by the latter’s crew, and shortly afterwards, at around 1 p.m., the Potemkin also hoisted the red, revolutionary flag.
While this was going on, the following occurred aboard the five other ironclad battleships—the Rostilav, Tri Sviatitelia [The Three Hierarchs], Dvenadsat Apostolov [The Twelve Apostles], Sinop, and Chesma, as well as the cruiser Pamiat Merkuria [Mercury’s Memory] and other small ships. A steamer with a delegation of marine officers sailed along the front of the whole fleet (with the exception of the Ochakov and the Potemkin, which were stationed some distance away), and paused beside every single ship. The officers on board the steamer informed the sailors that part of their economic demands had already been met and promised to do their best so that their outstanding demands would also be satisfied. The backward and gullible section of the crew took the officer’s empty promises at face value, while the politically organized sailors, on the other hand, found themselves to be in the minority and unable to sway the mass. This led to a rift in the sailors’ ranks, which resulted in a fistfight among the crew on the Rostislav. At first, the red flag was hoisted on the Rostislav, which sparked a lively debate; it was then taken down and torn up, and the patriotic, white and blue St. Andrew’s Cross was hoisted [in its place].* By about 1 p.m., all the aforementioned ships had hoisted the St. Andrew’s Cross. In the meantime, the Lazarev barracks, located on a hill and visible for miles, had unfurled the red flag. The two parties now faced each other, ready for battle. Admiral Chukhnin held the supreme command of the fleet loyal to the government, while Captain Schmidt, positioned on the Ochakov, had taken supreme command of the revolutionary fleet. The situation became critical, and the population awaited the events to come with bated breath, oscillating between fear and hope.
Their patience wasn’t to be tried for too long. At around 3:45 p.m., the first shots rang out.
Around 3 p.m., the Uralets, a revolutionary steam cutter with a delegation of sailors on board, sailed alongside the Terets, a gunboat loyal to the government. The latter was reportedly encouraged (through signals) to join the revolutionary fleet. According to a different account, the Uralets is said to have had the locking tappets for the firearms on board—which had been purloined by the officers and only now rediscovered—and the ship wanted to bring these to the Potemkin. It is at any rate irrefutable that the loyal-to-the-government Terets gunboat opened fire and not the “mutineers.” It is moreover important to record that the first shots from the government side did not come from the crew, but rather from officers on the Terets. The Uralets incurred damage and was not able to continue sailing. The injured onboard the Uralets were brought away immediately by a steamer which hurried to the scene, accompanied by the revolutionary torpedo boat destroyer Svirepy; the steamer even managed to tow the Uralets into port.
Meanwhile the crew of the Bug, a loyal-to-government minelayer located near the Terets—and loaded with 340 blockade mines containing more than 1,200 pood† of nitrocellulose—opened the ship’s lowering devices right at the start of battle; and in full view, the Bug sunk within half an hour up to the tip of the mast. This deed earned the crew the highest and most deserved praise, because if the mines had exploded the whole portion of the city around the bay would have been flattened, and countless human lives would have been lost.
At the same time, the ironclads Rostislav and Tri Sviatitelia and the cruiser Pamiat Merkuria, as well as the batteries on the north side, opened fire against the revolutionary Ochakov, while the Svirepy was put out of battle by shots from the Terets. The Svirepy’s helmsman was killed as the Pamiat Merkuria swept by, which placed the defenseless Svirepy under heavy fire, killing the entire crew. A part of the Svirepy’s crew who threw themselves into the water were killed by shotguns. Meanwhile, fire had broken out on board the Ochakov and its crew felt compelled to hoist the white flag as a sign of surrender. Yet the Ochakov was shot at for another ten minutes, contravening all rules of war, because of a supposed “misunderstanding.” Moreover, revolutionary torpedo boats 268 and 270 were incapacitated, and Captain Schmidt was arrested on the latter.
The remainder of the crew of the Ochakov jumped into the water during the battle, and the crowd that gathered on Sea Boulevard attempted to rescue the drowning men by sending out boats. At first, the authorities behaved shamelessly during the rescue. Not content with not taking the least part in the rescue action, and not providing a single government boat for it, they also attempted to obstruct the movement of the lifeboats in all sorts of ways. It is an undisputable fact that a private boat which rescued sailors from torpedo boat 270 and wanted to return to the shore was annihilated by two shots from the loyal-to-the-tsar cruiser Pamiat Merkuria—causing both rescuers and those being rescued to forfeit their lives! None of the thirty-three officers held prisoner on board the Ochakov were killed; a government boat rescued them soon after the battle ended. Only later, after the battle, when fire was still raging on the Ochakov, did the authorities find enough humane feeling in themselves to send out boats to pick up those who had jumped from the ship into the water.
And there were other outrageous happenings during the battle that must be recorded. A crowd of between sixty and one hundred people were gathered on Sea Boulevard during the cannonade when someone from the crowd suddenly unfolded a red flag. Immediately, the ironclad Rostilav thundered out two cannon shots in the direction of the crowd, which luckily killed no one (the missiles burst some distance from their target).
At 4:19 p.m. the government ships began a veritable bombardment of the marine barracks, using machine-gun fire that was uninterrupted for twenty-one minutes. (It is public knowledge that the telegrams of the tsarist thugs have spread the lie that the revolutionary crews carried out the bombardment on the city, a lie that was then spread by the trusting bourgeois foreign press.—The editors of Vorwärts.) After that, the fire died down considerably, with scattered cannon shots being fired at the marine barracks only every hour. The Lazarev barracks were then stormed around 2:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning, with the support of heavy cannon fire, and at 4:00 a.m. the 1,600 freedom fighters were forced to surrender themselves and numerous artillery to government troops.
The Ochakov was ablaze the whole night through. No one had lifted a finger to put out the fire. The ship with the remaining fighters who had stayed on it was left to a terrible death in flames. The sinister and yet striking image attracted hundreds of shocked observers on the shore, who followed the sporadic detonations coming from the ship with anxious horror. By Wednesday morning the blaze was finished and the Ochakov utterly burned out. The tsar had won the first sea battle in two whole years.
The city of Sevastopol seemed to be extinct on the morning that followed; nobody dared to go out. Only a few unshakable people opened their shops. Yet at noon everything was already quickly locked up again, as rumors spread that a pogrom against the Jews and the intelligentsia was about to break out immediately. Luckily the rumor did not prove to be true. The “men of order” considered it better to postpone the continuation of the thieving murders for a while yet.
The panic that took hold of the inhabitants during the bombardment is indescribable. Folk lost their heads entirely, and sought refuge in basements and other hideaways. Others lunged out into the streets, throwing themselves onto the ground, or hiding themselves behind trees, fences, and walls. Much of the city’s infrastructure only suffered mildly. The only buildings to incur serious damage were a number of houses standing on the banks of the sea. Telegraph, postal [service], ship, and railroad lines were all entirely suspended during the days of battle. On the Thursday after the bombardment, the railroad reopened transport for a number of hours. The train station overflowed with swarms of fleeing residents who had abandoned all possessions to at least save their lives.
At this stage, it is not possible to determine the exact numbers of casualties. As far as one can establish, only four to six persons are said to have been killed in the Lasarev barracks, while on the Ochakov at the very least one hundred men were killed. Others drowned, many are suffering from burns, and many have been driven mad.
And that is the history and the end of the sailors’ uprising in Sevastopol, which began so peacefully and prudently!
It is impossible to register this crime committed by absolutism and its murderous apprentices in words alone. It sticks out brashly amid all the bleak, shameful marks of tsarist despotism and perfidy, unique in its own way.
The history of the Russian freedom movement, well able to tell tales of countless suffering, will enshrine the fallen heroes of Sevastopol eternally in its memory.