During the day, Volodymyr Vynnychenko came to the Dnipro.
At the pier, Yevhen Chykalenko was already waiting for him—an old acquaintance and one of the few people with whom Vynnychenko could speak without constantly having to watch every word he said.
A few minutes later, they were already aboard Chykalenko's yacht.
The "Chaika" slowly moved away from the shore. Kyiv gradually remained behind, while around them there was only the sound of the water and the steady noise of the engine.
Chykalenko remained silent for some time, watching Vynnychenko.
Finally, he spoke.
—"You are unusually quiet today."
Vynnychenko smiled.
—"What am I supposed to say? I have already said enough in the Rada."
—"In the Rada, you say what you think you need to say to others. I am asking what you really think."
Vynnychenko looked at him.
—"You still ask questions too directly."
—"And you still spend too much time trying to avoid them."
Vynnychenko laughed quietly.
—"All right. Then ask."
Chykalenko nodded toward the shore.
—"Kharkiv?"
—"Kharkiv can still be negotiated with."
—"You really think so?"
—"Yes. Why not? They are socialists. We are socialists. They want to destroy the old order, and so do we. If we put aside the struggle for individual positions and ambitions, there is much more in common between us than it seems."
Chykalenko looked at him carefully.
—"And if they want more power than you are prepared to give them?"
—"Then we negotiate."
—"And if they don't want to negotiate?"
—"Then we will have to persuade them. We can invite their representatives into a common political system, give them seats in parliament, and allow them to represent their workers and soldiers. If they really consider themselves part of the revolutionary movement, why should they reject a political agreement?"
Chykalenko thought for a moment.
—"You still believe that an agreement with the Bolsheviks is possible?"
—"Why not? They also understand that Russia can no longer exist as it did before. They want a socialist revolution. We want a socialist Ukraine. The only question is how to agree on its form."
Chykalenko briefly turned toward the river.
—"You think too well of them."
—"And you think too poorly of them."
—"I simply look at people rather than their slogans."
—"And what do you see?"
Chykalenko did not answer immediately.
—"People who want power."
Vynnychenko smiled.
—"Do we want something else?"
—"Exactly."
They remained silent for several seconds.
Then Chykalenko looked at him.
—"And Skoropadskyi?"
Vynnychenko's mood changed almost instantly.
—"I really do think differently about him."
—"Why?"
—"Because this is no longer simply a political dispute. Skoropadskyi is a large landowner, a general of the old army, a man from an entirely different world. He is not going to build the kind of state we are building. He believes in order, discipline, hierarchy, and strong authority."
Vynnychenko fell silent for several seconds.
—"But it is not even only about his views. He has an army of three corps. And that is not all. He controls a large number of enterprises—from food and clothing to weapons and military production. In effect, he already has his own economic and industrial base, comparable to the economy of a small European country."
Chykalenko looked at him carefully.
—"That's why you are afraid of him?"
—"How could I not be afraid of a man who has his own army and his own industry? If such a man decides one day that the state should be built according to his rules, he will not have to ask anyone for permission."
Chykalenko remained silent for a moment.
—"Do you think he really wants power?"
—"I think that a man with such capabilities cannot remain outside politics forever."
—"But he hasn't done anything against the Rada yet."
—"Yet."
Vynnychenko looked at the river again.
—"That is precisely the word that worries me."
Chykalenko smiled.
—"You don't trust him at all."
—"I don't."
—"Even though he hasn't done anything yet?"
Vynnychenko turned sharply toward him.
—"I don't need to wait until he does something. Sometimes it is enough to look at the person standing in front of you."
Chykalenko watched him for several seconds, then laughed quietly.
—"Now I recognize you."
Vynnychenko smiled as well.
—"Did you expect to hear something different?"
—"No. I just wanted to make sure that behind all your speeches about the revolution, you are still capable of hating a particular person."
—"I don't hate him."
—"Of course."
—"I despise what he represents."
Chykalenko said nothing.
Vynnychenko continued:
—"People like that always believe that they know better than anyone else how the people should live. A general, a landowner, a descendant of the hetmans—and now the commander of his own army as well. What do you think he will do if he decides that our policies are standing in his way?"
—"I don't know."
—"Exactly. And I don't want to find out."
Chykalenko looked at him.
—"And what are you going to do?"
Vynnychenko remained silent for a moment.
—"Make sure that this army ceases to be an independent force."
—"Disband it?"
—"At least reduce it to a size that will not allow one man to dictate terms to the entire country."
Chykalenko thought about it.
—"And if Petliura is against it?"
Vynnychenko smiled.
—"Petliura always thinks he can preserve the army, the revolution, and order all at the same time."
—"You don't trust him?"
—"I don't trust people who try to sit on several chairs at once."
—"And Hrushevskyi?"
Vynnychenko laughed.
—"Mykhailo Serhiiovych wants to be a wise man for everyone. Sometimes I think he cares more about how he will go down in history than about what will happen tomorrow."
Chykalenko shook his head.
—"You really spare no one."
—"Why should I?"
—"One day that will cost you dearly."
—"Perhaps."
Vynnychenko looked toward the shore again.
—"But right now something else concerns me more. If we begin a war with Kharkiv, we can still try to stop it politically. We can talk to them. They are revolutionaries just like us."
He paused.
—"Skoropadskyi is different."
Chykalenko looked at him carefully.
—"Why?"
Vynnychenko answered almost immediately:
—"Because he may survive the revolution."
After those words, the conversation fell silent for a while.
The "Chaika" continued slowly along the Dnipro.
Vynnychenko stared into the distance, no longer hiding his irritation.
To him, Kharkiv remained part of the revolution that could still be directed in the right direction.
Skoropadskyi, however, was becoming something entirely different.
A man who already possessed his own power and did not need the permission of the Central Rada to preserve it.
The next day, the Central Rada gathered for another session.
The question of the army came first.
The atmosphere in the hall was noticeably more tense than usual. Before the deputies lay the latest reports from Kharkiv, documents concerning the decisions of the Free Cossacks, and several reports on the condition of the Ukrainian military units.
Vynnychenko rose first.
—"Comrades, we now face a question that cannot be postponed. After the events of the past few weeks, it has become obvious that Ukrainian military formations are beginning to acquire an independent political significance. We cannot allow the army to become a separate force capable of influencing state policy independently of the Central Rada."
One of the deputies rose from his seat.
—"But were the Ukrainian units not created precisely to defend Ukraine?"
—"They were," Vynnychenko replied. —"But we must understand what is happening now. The old army is collapsing. The soldiers must return home. The revolution requires not the creation of a new permanent army, but a transition to a people's militia."
Approving voices could be heard from several parts of the hall.
Vynnychenko continued:
—"We cannot simultaneously speak about destroying the old military system and creating a new permanent army in its place. That contradicts the very nature of the revolution. Ukraine must belong to the people, not to generals and military headquarters."
Petliura had remained silent at the table throughout the discussion.
He listened carefully without interrupting.
Vynnychenko turned toward him.
—"This question is particularly urgent now. Skoropadskyi has been elected Chief Ataman of the Free Cossacks. His army consists of three corps. If we leave it in its present form, we will effectively preserve an independent military force under the command of a single man."
Petliura finally raised his head.
—"I agree that Skoropadskyi should not remain in command."
The hall grew quieter.
Vynnychenko gave a slight nod.
—"Good."
—"But I do not agree that we should destroy the entire army we have created in a single day."
Several deputies immediately began whispering among themselves.
Vynnychenko looked at Petliura.
—"Why?"
—"Because we do not know what will happen tomorrow."
—"We know what is happening today. The old army is collapsing."
—"And that is precisely why we cannot leave Ukraine without organized units."
Vynnychenko frowned.
—"You are returning to the old military logic again."
—"Because it did not disappear along with the old army."
Petliura stood up.
He spoke calmly, without his earlier sharpness, but there was now firmness in his voice.
—"I agree that the present structure is too large. I agree that Skoropadskyi should be removed from command. I agree that the Second and Third Corps should be disbanded. But we should not destroy the First Corps immediately."
Vynnychenko looked at him for several seconds.
—"Why the First Corps in particular?"
—"Because it is the most organized part of the army. It already has a command structure, an officer corps, supplies, and discipline. If we disband everything at once, then tomorrow we will have neither an army nor the personnel from which we could create one again."
—"We do not need a permanent army."
—"That is what you think today."
Vynnychenko looked at him sharply.
Petliura continued:
—"But a state does not exist simply because we have declared it a people's state. If an armed force appears tomorrow that does not recognize our decisions, we must have at least one organized unit capable of carrying out the government's orders."
The hall once again grew noisy.
One of the deputies asked:
—"Are you proposing that we preserve the entire First Corps?"
—"No."
Petliura paused briefly.
—"I propose that we preserve it temporarily. Then reduce it to a single infantry division."
Several deputies exchanged glances.
Vynnychenko thought for a moment.
—"And who will command it?"
Petliura answered without hesitation:
—"Bolbochan."
Vynnychenko frowned.
—"He is also an officer of Skoropadskyi."
—"Exactly. That is why he already knows this army and its men. But he is not Skoropadskyi."
—"And what if he turns out to be the same?"
—"Then we will remove him as well. But right now, he is more useful to us than another complete reshuffling of the command structure."
Hrushevskyi, who had taken almost no part in the argument until then, finally intervened.
—"How long do you propose that we keep this division?"
—"Until the end of winter."
—"And after that?"
—"After that, the question should be reconsidered. If the situation really allows us to abandon it completely, then we will do so."
Vynnychenko remained silent for several seconds.
He understood Petliura's logic, but he did not like it.
The preserved division meant that a military force would still exist.
But now they were no longer talking about three corps or about the commander whom Vynnychenko regarded as the most dangerous representative of the old order.
—"All right," he finally said. —"But only on the condition that the reduction is mandatory and completed within the established period."
Petliura nodded.
—"I agree."
—"And the First Corps must be deprived of its previous command."
—"Agreed."
—"Skoropadskyi is removed from his position."
—"Yes."
Vynnychenko looked at the other deputies.
—"Then I propose that we formulate the decision as follows. The Second and Third Ukrainian Corps are to be disbanded. Their servicemen are to be demobilized and returned to their local communities. The First Corps will also begin to be disbanded, but will temporarily be preserved in the form of a single infantry division. Command will be transferred to Bolbochan."
He paused.
—"Skoropadskyi is relieved of his position as commander of the Ukrainian army."
Discussion immediately began throughout the hall.
Some deputies demanded the immediate and complete disbandment of all units.
Others believed that even a single division represented too great a danger.
Petliura remained in his place.
He understood that the compromise was fragile.
But to him, it was better than destroying all organized Ukrainian units at once.
One of the deputies stood.
—"And what will happen to the soldiers? We are talking about tens of thousands of men."
—"They will return home," Vynnychenko answered. —"The old army must cease to exist regardless."
—"But some of them are front-line veterans."
—"All the more reason for them to return to their families."
Petliura intervened again.
—"I would not speak about them as though they were no longer needed by anyone."
Vynnychenko looked at him.
—"What do you propose?"
—"Keep records of those who have combat experience and good service records. If we ever need to form units again, at least we will know whom to contact."
Vynnychenko looked at him for a while.
—"That can be done."
Petliura nodded.
—"Then at least do that."
The discussion continued for some time.
Gradually, the wording of the decision became more precise.
The Second and Third Corps were to be disbanded.
Their soldiers were to be demobilized.
The officer corps was to be removed from its previous positions.
The First Corps was to be temporarily preserved in a reduced form.
Of its three divisions, only one infantry division would remain.
Command would be transferred to Bolbochan.
And Skoropadskyi would leave his position as commander.
Finally, the presiding officer put the draft decision to a vote.
One by one, hands were raised.
The decision was adopted.
Vynnychenko leaned back in his chair.
He had achieved the main objective.
The army he considered the most dangerous political force within Ukraine would no longer exist in its previous form.
Petliura looked at the document lying before him.
He also understood the significance of the decision.
The Ukrainian army they had been creating for several months was effectively ceasing to exist.
But one division still remained.
For now.
Petliura stood and looked once more at the members of the Rada.
—"I hope we will never have to regret today's decision."
No one answered him.
The documents began to be gathered from the table.
The decision had been made.
Skoropadskyi was to leave.
The Second and Third Corps were to disappear.
The First was to be reduced to a single division.
The Ukrainian soldiers were to return home.
The Central Rada believed that by doing so, it was eliminating the danger of an independent military force emerging.
But along with the order to disband the army, it was creating an entirely new situation.
Now the general who had been stripped of his command would have to decide what to do next.