7 JUNE 1946, Page 16

The Gay Cossacks

The Cossacks. By Maurice Hindus. (Collins. 10s. 6d.)

DURING the bitter days of the Russian retreat, one of the few attrac- tive and inspiring sights to be seen in the drab capital of the Soviet Union was provided by the Cossack officers enjoying a few days' leave or up for a course or on attachment. Always in twos or threes, like visitors to a foreign city, they seemed like visitors from another world, a world of confidence—and competence. Wherever they went they shed confidence about them and the spirit of emulation. And as one stared gratefully at their casual magnificence it seemed permissible to hope. If the drab-coloured organisation so extrava- gantly called the Red Army could train these superb falcons to its lure, it must be formidable indeed. And if it could allow a corps &elite with an unfortunate past to swagger about in the most fetching uniform in the world, it must be very sure of its solidarity. It was, of course, both formidable and sure. One knew that per- fectly well. But in those early days, with the Germans just outside Moscow, with the ordinary soldiers in the streets looking drawn and tired to death and still dazed, with the wounded pouring into every hospital from dusk to first light, an interminable procession of converted 'buses stacked with tier on tier of stretchers carrying broken men in eternal mud-stained, blood-stained drab (for the Moscow hospitals then were, in effect, field hospitals), it cheered the heart to see a flutter of panache. This the Cossacks provided as they strode through the crowded streets, their long, thin legs encased in the most flexible of black leather, their dark blue breeches with the broad stripe showing their allegiance by its colour (the Don, the Terek, the Kuban), their flowing cloaks, or burkas, square- shouldered and broad, the round black astrakhan cap pulled hard down at the back and over one ear, with the coloured top to match the stripe, the complexion often dark, the nose often aquiline, the eyes often, indubitably, flashing, the carriage always superb. The Russians, I think, were also conscious of all this, and were grateful to the Cossacks for providing them with a symbol of elegance and dash in a war devoid of either. At any rate, they played them up in the Press, and the accounts of the glittering exploits of these swift horsemen among the German armour were themselves symbolic of the spirit of man versus the machine.

For the Russians, too, they were a symbol of something else ; of nothing less than the victory of the Revolution (which was not to be taken for granted in 1917 or even in 1937) and-the unity of their land. For the Cossacks had a history which made them long suspect, and their behaviour in the early years of the new regime did not, to put it mildly, contribute to national unity. But now all that was over, and here they were, no longer in disgrace, but feted as national heroes, as cherished prodigals.

The Cossacks have a famous name, but how many of us know the first thing about them? They are worth a better acquaintance, and their history is colourful and rich. I wish the same could be said about this book, but Mr. Hindus is not an inspiring writer. He does know his subject, however, and he knows Russia as well as if not better than any other writer. And what he has to say is so packed with interest that the reader is engrossed. We get the history from the early days of Muscovy and the gradual integration of independent spirits of every kind in the no-man's land of the Western Steppe, the conquest of Siberia by Yermak the outlaw, the wild and tremendous Cossack-led peasant risings of Pugachov and Stenka Razin, the curbing of their independence by the growing power of the central authority, the gradual transition from outlawry to bloody police-work for the Tsar, the chaos of the revolution and the bitter

resistance to collectivisation,. the final reconciliation with the new ,State and the brilliant heroisms of the 1941 war, and, finally; scenes from the domestic life of the socialised bird of prey. It is very much a book to fill out and humanise the popular ideas about Russia. It brings Taras Bulbas up to date. And it is full of interesting bits of information. Did you know, for instance, that it is a disgrace to cut off your enemy's head with your sabre? The proper stroke, made at full gallop, stops short of severance and goes " just deep