The Last Squadron to Leave: Rear Admiral Georgy Stark's Main Voyage
On October 25, 1922, Stark's squadron departed Vladivostok: 40 ships carrying more than 10,000 refugees. For three months, the rear admiral led them through storms and port failures to Manila.
Author: Sergey Tashevsky
On October 25, 1922, a squadron of 40 vessels—all that remained of the Siberian Flotilla—set out from Vladivostok. Warships led the way, followed by large and medium-sized commercial steamships, small icebreakers, transports, gunboats, cutters, and barges, all struggling to cope with the sea's swells. A heavy swell tossed the ships from side to side, carrying the last units of the White Army, officials of the Naval Department, members of aristocratic families, and the families of soldiers and officers. More than ten thousand people. From now on, they were all united by one word: refugees. They were sailing literally "to nowhere," away from the city, whose streets were already being invaded by units of the People's Revolutionary Army (NRA). Behind them were enemies; ahead, there were no friends. And even this "ahead" itself seemed shaky, uncertain. The ships had enough coal, water, and provisions for several days' sailing, and no one knew where they would next set foot. But this desperate outcome, which marked a tragic end to the Civil War, was commanded by perhaps the only man whose experience and fortitude could have saved the motley flotilla lost in the icy waves: Rear Admiral Georgy Karlovich Stark. A man whom fate seemed to have specially saved for this, the most important feat of his life.
Over the ocean and back
According to legend, the Stark family came to Russia from Sweden and Finland as early as the 17th century, and its members were involved in navigation from the very beginning. For example, according to documents, Lieutenant Colonel Yakov Stark was assigned to the "sovereign's naval service" in 1667 and even participated in the construction of the first Russian warship, the "Eagle." The Starks became captains, fought in wars, and had straits named in their honor. In short, they were a maritime dynasty. True, there were exceptions, such as Georgy's father, Karl Stark, who founded a law firm in St. Petersburg in the 19th century. His business was so successful that he even invested in the construction of the Palace and Trinity Bridges in the capital. But then a mishap occurred: the contractors stole money, the firm went bankrupt, and everything had to be started over. And this happened precisely in October 1878, when Karl Stark's large family welcomed their youngest son, Georgy.
Apparently, the sea was destined for him, because his life effectively began with a transatlantic voyage. In 1880, his father and his entire family set off for America to try their hand at farming. In those days, the United States truly was the "land of opportunity," and stories of successful settlers were passed down by word of mouth.
Some people managed to amass a substantial fortune in a matter of years. But not Karl Stark. After two years, he discovered that farming had only given him sciatica, and he headed back to Europe. There, in Germany, he tried farming again, but this experiment lasted even less time—five or six months. Again, a complete failure. But Karl Stark was tenacious. With his remaining money saved, he bought a large estate near Kherson, hoping to prove his worth as a farmer there, in the fertile black soil.
Unfortunately, he was again unsuccessful. Just a few weeks after he settled into the estate, awaiting the arrival of his family, the house was raided by "wicked men" who, searching for money and jewelry, murdered the owner. Such incidents were common in Russia's southern provinces. Thus, the comfortable life in a wealthy family (of which young Georgy had barely had a chance to experience) came to an abrupt end. His mother was forced to take a job as a housekeeper on an estate near Smolensk, and the children, including five-year-old Georgy, were sent to an aunt in St. Petersburg. Fortunately, she took a very active role in their lives, enrolling them in private schools and gymnasiums, and young Stark received a good education, which he decided to continue by enrolling in the Naval Cadet Corps. Perhaps his choice was influenced by Admiral Oskar Viktorovich Stark, his cousin, but Georgy himself never mentioned this. And there wasn't any particular "craving for the sea" in him at first. At first, by his own admission, he was a downright sloppy student: "In my very first year, I managed to repeat a year; my aunt said it was due to illness; true, I was sick a lot, but I think it was due to laziness. For the remaining six years, I was an average student; some teachers considered me a bad student." he wrote in his memoirs. But perhaps his remarkable modesty played a role here: while some people constantly embellish their lives in their memoirs, Stark was always strict and critical of himself. Indeed, his classmates recalled that he excelled in the exact sciences and navigation, and his teachers held him up as a role model.
Be that as it may, on September 15, 1898 (at the age of 20), he was promoted to the first officer rank of midshipman and assigned to the 15th naval crew of the Baltic Fleet. Later, together with his fellow student and close friend, Alexander Razvozov, they participated in several long-distance voyages on seagoing steamships and the cruiser "Duke of Edinburgh." Razvozov, arrested in 1919 on suspicion of counterrevolutionary conspiracy and who died in June 1920 in a Petrograd prison after surgery, played a significant role in Stark's fate. Their families were close, and Georgy married his sister, Elizaveta Vladimirovna. But all this came later. Meanwhile, in 1904, the friends, who had already risen to the rank of mine warfare officer, first class, were forced to part ways: Razvozov went to Port Arthur, and Stark began his service on the cruiser Aurora. Yes, on the very same Aurora that would later become a symbol of the Revolution. Back then, it was a practically new warship, one of many. And not the best.
Dreams of Tsushima
Like many other Russian ships of the time, the Aurora was built in a hurry and was a complete mess. Its engines failed to produce the required power and were constantly breaking down, while the hull leaked everywhere. From an engineering standpoint, the sailors generally considered it to be one of the "failed series of naval cruisers." Nevertheless, on the eve of the war with Japan, the ship was commissioned, and Stark was appointed to its ranks as a torpedo officer in mid-1904.
In the first days of the war, the Aurora set out for Port Arthur, but halfway through, it was returned to St. Petersburg, where the infamous 2nd Squadron of the Russian Navy was being formed. The same one that the Japanese destroyed in the Tsushima Strait. And in mid-May 1905, Lieutenant Stark was aboard the cruiser preparing for a brutal battle. The day before, as the Aurora's ship's doctor, Kravchenko, recalls, Georgy had a dream, which he recounted the next morning. And the dream turned out to be prophetic:
We're sailing past Tsushima, and there's some port on Tsushima, and out of it, in perfect formation (not like ours), comes the Japanese squadron. Its forward ships, closest to us, have already opened fire. The undershot shells are exploding in the water, raising columns of water, and shrapnel is flying into the conning tower, singing and buzzing: "A gift for the captain, a gift for the captain." I wake up—they're waking me up, saying: "Japanese cruisers."
A few hours later, this dream came true in literally every detail, when fragments from an enemy shell exploding near the conning tower flew in through the observation slit, and one of them struck the Aurora's captain, Yegoryev, directly in the head. The commander died instantly. Stark stood next to him at the time and also suffered several wounds, but barely had time to bandage his wounds before taking over as the ship's senior officer. For hours on end, under heavy fire, he ran from deck to deck, supervising firefighting and patching of breaches, and descending into the engine room to "boost morale." According to the sailors' recollections, he even went a bit overboard with this. Kravchenko himself recalls: "After four hours, Lieutenant Stark, now in the role of senior officer, descended into the engine room several times." As always, unflappable, he calmly insisted: "The Oslyabya capsized? No! No, I tell you!" And his messenger behind him nodded as if to say, yes. Or: "The Borodino has joined the line, and is sailing magnificently," the messenger behind him: "Not at all, Your Excellency, it's already sunk."
The Aurora, however, was lucky: the Japanese concentrated their fire on other ships in the squadron, and it sustained only 18 hits. Then night fell, and the Japanese destroyers, finishing off the Russian ships, didn't notice it—so it and several other surviving vessels were able to reach the American base in Manila, where the war ended for the Russian sailors: the Americans gave them refuge, but removed their weapons and grounded their engines until a peace treaty was signed. Therefore, both the Aurora and Stark returned to Russia only many months later. But during his time in the Philippines, Georgy greatly improved his already-adequate English, made friends with American officers, and generally learned a great deal about their lives. Little did he know that almost twenty years later, all this would come in handy when he found himself back here in completely different circumstances and with a different squadron.
Meanwhile, despite the disastrous outcome of Tsushima, his career was on the rise. By 1912, he had finally risen to the position he'd assumed under extraordinary circumstances, in combat—senior officer of the Aurora. In 1908, he married (as mentioned, to the sister of an old friend, also a naval officer). Soon, they had a son, then a daughter. The Aurora's long-distance voyages took him away from his family for long periods, so Georgy likely welcomed his new rank and assignment—he was promoted to captain 2nd rank and assigned to command a destroyer in the Baltic. Closer to home, always.
Thus he met the outbreak of World War I, commanding the destroyer "Terrible." But, contrary to its name, nothing particularly terrifying happened to it. It laid minefields, participated in several minor skirmishes with light vessels, and even sank a small German patrol vessel (converted from a fishing trawler). For these modest exploits, Georgy was awarded the Order of St. Vladimir (IV degree), and in the summer of 1917, he was promoted to rear admiral. It was in the Baltic in 1916 that Stark met Admiral Kolchak, then commanding a destroyer division, but their acquaintance began with an argument. During a review of the ship, Kolchak, in a foul mood, unfairly picked on one of the sailors. Georgy stood up for him, and... "Alexander Vasilyevich became agitated, and so did I. By the end of the conversation, we were practically shouting at each other," Stark recalled. However, a few days later, Kolchak himself approached him and admitted he had been wrong. "I thanked him sincerely. After that admission, I would have followed him anywhere. It's hard to understand your mistake, but even harder to admit it," Stark wrote in his memoirs. And, of course, he didn't know then that the opportunity to "follow Kolchak" would present itself very soon.
With inverted ribbons
Stark experienced the October Revolution, in which his beloved Aurora played such a resounding role, far from her, at the base in Helsinki. By this time, he himself commanded a destroyer division, although many considered him lacking in leadership qualities: too soft with his subordinates, too attentive to them. But when the Bolsheviks took control of the ships, this saved his life.
George's son, Boris, later recalled:
...The sailors loved Papa very much. When the infamous "St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre" began in Helsinki, the sailors came and said, "Your Excellency, may we lock you in your cabin, formally speaking, and post a guard? Everyone on our ship knows you well and loves you, but right now, the punks are hanging around dressed in naval uniforms, their ribbons upside down so it's not obvious which ship they're from—you never know who might come in..."
And so I remember we had a reception that evening, and Dad's fellow sailors were having dinner with us. There were six officers and six of their wives—twelve people sitting at the table. And the next morning, during the lunch break, they were all sitting in the wardroom, except Dad, who was "under arrest" in his cabin. Some disguised "gentleman" with his ribbons upside down walked onto the ship, completely uninhibited. (Back then, all military ships were manned by "brothers" with machine guns.) He entered the wardroom, and just as the sailor went to the galley to bring the second course, he machine-gunned all five of them... So Dad came in and said, "Of all the people who dined with us last night, not a single one is left alive."
Stark, true to the officer's code of honor, wanted nothing to do with the Bolsheviks, and remaining in Petrograd became mortally dangerous for him. Therefore, in the summer of 1918, he donned a soldier's uniform, said goodbye to his family (and, as it turned out, to his wife—forever), and secretly traveled to Kazan, where the People's Army (or, as it was called, the KOMUCH army) was already forming, to lead the Whites' river flotilla. Under Stark's command, the hastily converted tugboats and cutters, armed with machine guns, quickly became a significant fighting force. However, only in the summer, when the rivers were free of ice. Therefore, in the fall, Kolchak summoned Stark to Krasnoyarsk, where he tasked him with forming a division of naval riflemen. With this hastily assembled division, Georgy survived the terrible carnage of 1919, which culminated in the famous "Ice March."
Stark retreated with the troops of Lieutenant General Kapel, who died in this campaign, and was also on the brink of death. In the depths of winter, Georgy fell ill with typhus, and soldiers carried his nearly lifeless body across the frozen surface of Lake Baikal. Miraculously, he survived, but woke up in China, in a hospital in Harbin.
He should have stayed there, like the thousands who survived the Ice March. After all, Kolchak had long since perished, Wrangel's army in the south had retreated and was barely holding Perekop, and it was clear the war was lost. But Vladivostok, still holding out against the Bolsheviks, was still holding on "by the bayonets of the Japanese," and, barely recovering from his wrath, Stark, at the request of the Provisional Amur Government, went there to command the Siberian Naval Flotilla—the last active unit of ships of the Russian Navy under the St. Andrew's flag.
He spent a year bringing these ships into order, manning them, and eventually the flotilla of six destroyers, a dozen gunboats, and numerous cutters began to resemble a real military force. But it never saw combat. In the fall of 1922, it became clear that the Japanese were abandoning Vladivostok to its fate, and the only purpose for which all these ships were now needed was evacuation.
It happened suddenly. Essentially, there were only days, even hours, left for the evacuation: units of the People's Revolutionary Army of the Far Eastern Republic and partisans were already stationed in the suburbs. On October 24, they signed a formal agreement with the Japanese command, obliging the Japanese to evacuate the city by 4:00 PM the following day. But by lunchtime on October 25, the Bolsheviks had entered the city and captured the port.
However, all they could see there was smoke from the stacks of 40 ships, transports, and boats, disappearing toward the horizon. There was no way to pursue them—Stark, the squadron commander, hadn't left a single vessel intact.
Three months before rescue
Thus began a voyage that proved life-saving for many thousands, although neither the ships nor the men were initially prepared for the long journey. The ships barely had enough supplies for a week's voyage. Stark hoped to replenish their coal, water, and provisions in Japan, but the Japanese authorities categorically refused to accept the ships into their ports, except to allow them to purchase coal and water. This was a relief, as the Red Army command from Vladivostok sent daily dispatches to the Japanese government demanding that the ships be seized and returned as "Soviet property." Then, under escort of Japanese destroyers, Stark's flotilla set sail for the shores of Korea, but the same thing happened there too. Coal and water were provided, but the captain was ordered to leave port immediately. Three weeks into the voyage, the squadron finally reached Fusan, Korea (occupied, however, by the Japanese at the time). There, a small number of passengers wishing to remain ashore managed to disembark, while the rest planned to remain in Shanghai, where many refugees from the Far East had already arrived. But the passage to Shanghai unexpectedly proved extremely difficult: just a couple hundred miles short of the city, the squadron encountered a fierce storm that scattered the ships. During this storm, the guard cruiser Lieutenant Dydymov was lost under unclear circumstances, taking nearly 50 people to the bottom, and ten or twelve ships were seriously damaged, requiring urgent repairs. Having somehow gathered the remnants of the squadron, Georgy finally brought it to the Shanghai roadstead. The passengers, shaken by the storm and the deaths of their comrades, begged to be allowed ashore, and Stark did not object.
He himself initially believed that Shanghai would be the end point of their difficult journey, but rumors were already circulating that the relationship between the Chinese and the Soviet authorities had changed significantly: all White combat units that had gone to China were disarmed, people were interned and kept in very harsh conditions, and Russian ships calling at Chinese ports risked being arrested and handed over to the Bolsheviks.
The Bolsheviks had serious plans for warships, especially destroyers. They didn't have a single one in Vladivostok, near hostile Japan, so they tried to get Stark's squadron back by hook or by crook. While it was still moored in Fusan, Vladimir Belli, the Soviet naval attaché in China, was sent to Georgy to negotiate with him, hoping to persuade Stark to return the ships to the Soviets. Belli and Stark knew each other well, having once served together, and the meeting was expected to be dramatic: a Bolshevik (Belli had already joined the Party) and a White Russian officer! Perhaps they wouldn't shake hands? Or would they embrace as friends? That was the plan. Belli even reportedly asked for a photograph of Stark's family, whom he hadn't heard from in years, to be sent from St. Petersburg. A full-length photograph of the mother and children was taken, so that their father could see how big they had grown, and the photograph was rushed to China by courier. But you should have known Stark! He greeted Belli warmly and amicably, sincerely thanked him for the photo, and then (even though the naval attaché had promised him and the other officers amnesty, a career, and numerous awards in the Soviet Union) coldly and calmly rejected the offer. When Belli persisted, Stark suggested that he "leave Fusan immediately to avoid any negative consequences for himself."
It was now clear that remaining off the Chinese coast was becoming mortally dangerous for him and his crew. Almost all the "civilians" disembarked in Shanghai. Some remained in the city, while others decided to return to Vladivostok at their own risk. Only the flotilla's ground forces, cadet corps, naval officials, and their families remained on the warships temporarily moored in the outer roads. A total of about two thousand people—all those who were in obvious danger ashore. And although the ships were badly battered by storms and in need of urgent repairs, on January 11, Stark gave the order to weigh anchor and set sail for Manila.
They were already in their third month of a protracted voyage, and the nerves of the sailors and officers were frayed to the limit. Not all of them made it to Manila. Near the Pescadores Islands, the dispatch ship Ajax sank, hitting a rocky bank at full speed. Almost its entire crew perished. Nevertheless, the remaining ships reached the Philippines on January 23—three months after leaving Vladivostok. And this was their salvation.
The Americans welcomed the fugitives warmly. Some of the American officers still remembered Stark, so they treated the Russian sailors with exceptional friendliness. After disinfection and a bath, the crew members returned to their ships, the women and children were housed ashore, and the American Red Cross quickly delivered provisions. After the cold swells of Vladivostok, the travelers felt like paradise on the shore, under palm trees and a blazing sun (they say the only thing they lacked was light clothing, so essential in the hot tropical climate, especially for women). The personal weapons of the officers and sailors were guarded, but even the artillery supplies and cannon remained untouched. In fact, they were given complete freedom to choose their own future.
Stark understood perfectly well that everyone would now go their separate ways. However, even here, he found a way to take care of his crews. Over the course of three or four months, he sold ships to the Americans, finding the best buyer for each, and distributed the proceeds equally among the sailors and officers. In the end, each of them received a kind of "start-up capital" for a new life, and many managed to use this money wisely.
Most moved to the United States, some to Australia, New Zealand, China, and Europe, while fifteen naval officers from Stark's flotilla remained in Manila, where a mess hall was organized under the chairmanship of Admiral Vladimir Kovalevsky. After World War II, they moved to America. Stark himself, along with several officers, departed for Paris in late 1923, hoping to reunite with his family. He carried with him a report on his three-month voyage and accounting records, which, along with the proceeds from the sale of the ships, he presented to Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich (in 1922, he was proclaimed Emperor of All the Russias in the Far East, and George apparently considered him his sole superior). He kept virtually nothing for himself from the proceeds from the ships.
Paris. Family. "Starkovtsy"
While still in Manila, Stark managed to establish correspondence with his children and wife through proxies, and then began sending them food parcels, which proved vital in the famine-ridden St. Petersburg of the early 20s. Condensed milk, chocolate, canned meat… They had to carefully obtain all of this to avoid attracting the attention of the OGPU. But in 1924, Stark's wife, Elizaveta Vladimirovna, died of tuberculosis, leaving the children alone. Their daughter, Tatyana, was 11 years old at the time, and their son, Boris, was 15. Stark decided to do everything he could to get them to Paris.
He couldn't possibly take care of his children's fates himself—after all, he had long been featured in Soviet newspapers as a mortal enemy of Soviet power, having stolen ships and saved White Russian officers from retribution! So he had to act through distant acquaintances. And he had to act quickly—the "window of opportunity" for leaving Soviet Russia was rapidly closing. So Georgy found some contacts in Finland and arranged for the children to receive an invitation, ostensibly from a great-aunt, a role that the wife of an officer he knew agreed to play.
The situation was saved by the fact that the Soviet authorities, who had plenty of orphans and street children of their own, were generally willing to get rid of them. But suspicions that the White officer's children were being sent to their father prevented them from issuing permission. The son and daughter had to dissuade the officials, explaining that they hadn't heard from their father for eight years, and they had even forgotten what he looked like.
Eventually, it worked, and they received permission. But they had to travel without any escort—it was 1925, and the Soviet borders were becoming increasingly impassable for adults. So, from the border, they had to make their way to Paris on their own.
"We got in and drove off. My mother's sister drove us to the border (Bely Island, I think) and then left. My sister and I crossed the border, and at the next station, a large woman came in: 'Hello, I'm your aunt!' - 'Nice to meet you!' - 'Are you going to see your dad?' At this point, it was time to speak openly..." recalled Boris about this.
The "fake aunt" helped the children obtain documents and put them on a train to Berlin, where their father met them. He still had some money left, enough to rent a spacious apartment on the outskirts of Paris. Their aunt (this time, the real one) moved in with her children, and Stark with his. To make ends meet, Georgy decided to buy a car and earn money as a taxi driver. He was already approaching fifty, but he passed all his driving and auto repair tests and a thorough knowledge of Parisian streets. His children helped him with this, riding bicycles around the city from morning until night, drawing maps and explaining the correct routes. Eventually, the rear admiral became a first-class Parisian taxi driver—no worse than the princes of the Gagarin, Obolensky, Meshchersky, and Trubetskoy families, who became his colleagues. However, money was still tight, especially since Stark was essentially supporting two families. But gradually, parcels and money transfers began to arrive from America, from different addresses.
These were messages from the sailors and officers of his flotilla who had settled in the United States. He had no idea that they had long called themselves "Starkovites" and even celebrated their miraculous rescue every year. Here's what the press wrote about it:
Saturday, July 1st [1933], marked the 10th anniversary of the arrival in San Francisco of 530 "Starkites" from the Philippines. About 150 former Siberian Flotilla officers and their families gathered at the California Vymens Club to celebrate. In one of the halls, a large portrait of Admiral Stark hung in the center of the enormous St. Andrew's flag from the Varyag. Before the ceremonial portion of the banquet, photographs of the group were taken. Afterward, the orchestra, conducted by M. Kolands, performed "Kol Slaven"...
The "Stark Society," however, was never officially established (Stark himself, with his natural modesty, would likely not have allowed it), but aid from America arrived regularly. And, of course, not only to him, but also to other needy sailors who participated in that famous expedition...
The meticulous Stark avoided this assistance as best he could and continued working as a taxi driver until the Germans occupied Paris. He had to quit his job then: the Germans demanded cooperation from former Russian officers, and Georgy categorically refused and lost his license. But Stark couldn't sit idle. In 1943, he wrote a memoir, a large volume in which he recounted his life from childhood to 1916, before the Russian revolutions. He titled it "My Life." It seems, then, that after the revolution, he had no life at all. He disliked remembering the times of the revolution and the civil war and practically never spoke about them, even to his children.
Once upon a time, we might not have understood him. But today, in the age of new exiles, it's entirely understandable. Georgiy Stark was brutally honest with himself and didn't consider his heroic deeds significant against the backdrop of the catastrophe that befell his homeland. Therefore, he considered his life over in 1916. His comrades, however, thought otherwise. And when he died in Paris on March 3, 1950 (and therefore no longer able to contradict anyone), he was given a funeral such as few admirals have ever received. A lavish procession wound through half the city. His young grandchildren walked in front, carrying the admiral's dagger, broadsword, and tricorn hat. The clergy followed, and then came the cross, wreaths, rear admiral's flag, and other ceremonial paraphernalia, which, had he had even the slightest chance, would undoubtedly have compelled Stark to rise from his grave and put an end to it all. But he no longer had such an opportunity.
He lay in a white tunic with admiral's epaulettes, among hundreds of bouquets of flowers. He was buried under a half-mast flag from the transport Baikal, on which he had made the voyage from Vladivostok to Manila. And Rear Admiral Stark was likely the first rear admiral in history to receive such honors not for sending thousands of people to the next world, but for saving them.
