Once he struck an unsuspecting civilian across the face with his riding whip because the man had failed to recognize and salute him as he was riding through the town. Nor can it be said that General Stoessel was loved by his officers or their men. All dreaded him. Soldiers, seeing him approach, would turn up side streets, hide away behind go-downs, get anywhere out of his way. He careered through the town like a whirlwind, shouting, commanding, blustering. The sentries shook as he neared them. He would ask a soldier who he was, where he came from, when he joined the regiment, and if he saw nothing to complain of in the man’s appearance would command him to take off his boots there and then, so that he might inspect his foot-rags: if these were correct, as likely as not he would ask to see the extra pairs in the man’s kit--rarely indeed did a soldier so examined escape the interviewer without a punishment or a reprimand. It was said by many Russians that if war should come General Stoessel would be shot from behind by some of his own soldiers--so widely and so thoroughly was he hated. A strict disciplinarian, he regarded his men as so many fighting units whose duty it was in peace time to keep themselves in fighting trim; and in order that they might be found so when he should require them he did his best to keep them sufficiently fed, properly clothed, and in good health. The conditions ruling in the port made his task hard, but he kept pounding away at rank and file. A man of excellent physique, fine courage and exuberant spirits himself, he thought every soldier ought to be as able and ready as he was himself to labour incessantly.