9
THE MIND IN THE MACHINE
THE idea that Russian soldiers should be educated for their own benefit would
have struck most of their superiors as fanciful, to say the least. The training
which a recruit received was almost entirely physical: handling weapons and
performing evolutions on the parade-ground. It involved little more mental
effort than the memorizing of various signals. During his subsequent career in
the ranks the soldier was required only to revise this basic knowledge.
It would be quite wrong, however, to visualize the Russian private as an
automaton or a moron. Like peasants in civilian life, and indeed people in pre-
literate societies generally, soldiers could compensate for their lack of formal
instruction by drawing on a rich store of folk wisdom: proverbs, aphorisms,
stories, and verse. To some extent this constituted a 'secret language', a mode
of communication that was largely beyond the ken of those in authority. It
gave those familiar with it assurance and protection against outsiders. The
men in the ranks also enjoyed jokes and songs, ribald or otherwise; these were
often very different in tone from the officially approved lyrics which they were
encouraged to sing on the march. Apart from all this, many recruits brought
with them into the service a great deal of practical knowledge which was of
vital importance in enabling them to withstand the rigours of army life. In this
chapter we shall try to probe the menta/ite of the Russian soldier, but first we
may briefly consider the men who stood out among their comrades because
they did receive a minimum of formal instruction.
The garrison school was a creation of Peter I: at least it was he who
authorized the setting up of educational facilities in each garrison regiment for
the children of serving soldiers. The money was to come from the savings
effected when the number of men in the unit fell below establishment strength.
However, nothing was done by St. Petersburg to provide premises, equipment,
or teachers, and neither officers nor men saw much point in taking the initi-
ative themselves. Except in the Baltic provinces, where the cultural climate was
more propitious, those in charge showed little zeal in filling the 3,475 places
theoretically available, and whatever tuition was provided seems to have been
unattractive. 'Many of those who have learned to read and write', ran an
official lament in 1732, 'leave the service and become merchants or artisans, or
else enter the homes of men of various ranks [as servants].' To stop this drain
on military manpower, boys born to soldiers of non-privileged origin while
their fathers were in service were henceforth to be despatched to garrison
schools and were then to follow in their fathers' footsteps, 'so that there may