reported to the Military Representative, but when only half way
telegraphed from Nikolsk warning me that in his opinion this forward
movement should not take place, as he had already received important
information which altered the entire situation. I ignored this
interference of an understraper, but a few hours later received definite
instructions from the Political Representative, that I was to stand
purely on the defensive, and not move an inch beyond my position. I was
compelled to accept the instruction, but was disgusted with the
decision. It proved to me in a forcible way what I had never realised
before, how impossible it is for a man at a distance, however clever he
may be, to decide a military problem, limited in locality and isolated,
as was this case, from questions of public policy. When the one purpose
of a force is the protection or maintenance of a limited front, only the
man on the spot can be the judge of what is necessary to accomplish that
purpose.

My actual plan of operations was very simple. Having assembled my force
at Olhanka, I should at dusk have occupied the roads leading from
Shmakovka to Uspenkie, and from Uspenkie to the monastery by cavalry,
thus making it impossible for enemy reinforcements to reach the post to
be attacked under the cover of night. My own troops, together with the
Czech company, would have approached the position from the south, and
during the hours of darkness have taken up a line within rifle- and
machine-gun range. At daybreak fire would have been opened from such
cover as could be obtained, and while our eight machine-gunners barraged
the post, the infantry would have advanced rapidly on the south front at
the same time as the Cossacks charged in from the rear. The result would
have been as certain as anything in war could be, and, as since then I
have met the Bolsheviks in open fight, I am convinced that this small
effort might have had decisive political and military influence in