by H Schmidt
“May God help us all, General. Let us hope we can bring our country together again.”
“Good night, Dmitri Karlovich.”
The captain had listened in the other room. He remembered the talk his father had with him before he had left to attend the military academy.
“One of the most difficult things in life, son, is to know who you can trust. One of the great temptations is to trust because you want to; because trusting someone’s word promises something you want. Clever men prey on people who want to believe what they are told because it fits what they want. In life, you will find few men’s words should be believed without some way of verifying what they tell you.”
The general sat alone. He turned to see the captain standing by the door. “You heard what was said, Captain. There is still hope. They are out in the open where we can deal with them.”
He wanted to speak, but he did not. “Yes, General.”
---
The room was no more than three meters square. There were no benches. When Billy touched his hand against the wall, it was covered with water. A single small lightbulb hung from the ceiling, creating a yellow caste on the skin of the three prisoners. Anna sat in the corner, leaning against the wall. Her forehead rested on her knees. Her long hair, which had been set neatly in a bob when the night began, now fell like strings onto her legs. Carson paced slowly from wall to wall. The side of his face was a deep purple where he had been struck by the officer who had discovered them. Billy could feel the throbbing over his kidney where the rifle butt had hit him as they were marched down to the cell.
They were still in the Winter Palace, he thought. When they reached the underground floor, they had not moved very far before they were placed in the cell.
Carson looked at the two people with him. He knew that Colonel Nikitin’s men, or Nikitin himself would soon begin to question them. It would only be a matter of time before they began to name the people around them. He would hold out as long as he could, but he had heard the stories of men braver than he. He looked at the girl. Sometimes, such unstable people surprise you, but he guessed she would be the first. The lieutenant. He will be hard. He will suffer the most.
---
“You understand that this is not to be shared with anyone until I give you the word. Do you have a list of newspapers for me to review?” Kerensky looked a Nekrasov’s list. “Good. the New York Times and the London Times need to know. Le Monde, good.”
The prime minister looked at the time. It was five minutes after eight. Good, he thought. I will let him wait another fifteen minutes. He would remind the general who was the real commander in chief.
Fifty kilometers away, the general paced, waiting for the moment when he would have his chance to save his country. The telegrapher on the Hughes telegraph turned to the general.
“The prime minister on the line. Is General Kornilov ready?” “General Kornilov on the line.”
“How do you do, General. We ask that you confirm your willingness to move on Petrograd.” Kerensky glanced at the wide-eyed Nekrasov as he spoke.
“Yes, prime minister, I am prepared. The Third Cavalry Division has been deployed in Krasnoe Selo. I have also moved the Savage Division and the Don Cossack Division within forty kilometers of Petrograd.”
“General, I ask that we meet at the Taurida Palace tomorrow morning before first light.”
“Prime Minister, I think it would be an error to bring troops in tomorrow.” “Can you come alone?” He glanced at the smiling Nekrasov.
There was a break in communication, then the reply. “I will be there.”
---
Count Voravskii had not slept. Something had gone wrong. He had watched the three prepare for the robbery. At first, he had argued against it. The risks of getting caught were too great. The lieutenant had made the argument. Finding such documents, whether real or a forgery, made the effort worth the risk, he had insisted. Now, he wished he had been more forceful. He had to find out what had happened. In Petrograd, with so many people for sale, it would not be difficult.
---
A fine rain fell on the streets of Petrograd. The breeze blew cold from the sea. The Rolls-Royce provided for the general moved slowly down the street, its lamps burning dimly in the gray dawn. Kerensky could be useful in dealing with the socialists, he thought. He would have no trouble dealing with the monarchists and the republicans. He had decided the first step must be a preemptive strike, to cut the head from the Bolshevik dragon. He would use the military courts. He could not trust those set up by the Duma. The sooner we dispensed with the Bolsheviks, and their radical friends, he thought, the sooner Russia could be put back on her feet.
He had been surprised by the offer from Kerensky. He was disappointed that most of his commanders were unwilling to trust Kerensky. The prime minister was a socialist, but more than that, he was a patriot. He could work with such men, men who put their Russia first. As he pulled up in front of the palace, he noticed the squadron of soldiers waiting. What unit, he wondered? He saw the Latvian patches sewn to their uniforms. He had little trust in the Latvians; he would see to it that Petrograd saw the discipline and bravery of his Turkomans. The driver stopped his car in front of the small entrance at the side of the palace. None of the soldiers moved forward to open the door. Finally, the driver stepped out and came around to open the door. The Latvians had formed a path for him to pass through. The lieutenant who commanded the squadron saluted.
Kornilov would not address their sad appearance with the lieutenant. He would find the general, and he would regret the behavior of his soldiers.
The prime minister watched as the general stepped out of the car, then stand stiffly as he returned the salute of the officer. Kerensky could feel his chest tighten, finding it hard to breathe. He looked at the pale faces of Nekrasov and Nikitin. He had come this far, he could not stop now. He could hear the hard leather soles hitting the marble floors. Kerensky stepped forward as the confident general walked through the doorway. Behind the general, four soldiers, their rifles held at the ready, moved in behind him, blocking the doorway. Outside, squads of soldiers moved from behind the palace. Two of the squads placed machine guns, facing in opposite directions, covering the street. The general could hear the shouts. He looked into the wandering eyes of the prime minister, then to Nekrasov and Nikitin. He knew then what his commanders had tried to tell him, what his foolish dream would not allow him to believe.
Kerensky stood before the general, Colonel Nikitin moved beside the prime minister.
“General Lavr Gegorivich Kornilov, in the name of the Provisional Committee of the Duma, I arrest you for the crime of treason.”
---
The rain that had fallen all day had stopped. The city was quiet. The soldiers stood in groups on every street corner. Throughout the city, machine guns were placed. All day, there was an air of expectancy as people indoors waited for the firing to start. None did. Restaurants were closed. Liquor was forbidden to be sold anywhere in the city. Around tables, in small neighborhood groups, people gathered to praise the prime minister for saving Russia from the treacherous Kornilov. Those who thought differently were quiet, sensing the end of their hope that the revolution would be over.
---
The brakes of the lorry squealed as it stopped and soldiers hopped down from its bed, forming quickly into two ranks. At their officer’s command, they turned to the right then began to march in a column of twos toward the sentries who stood watching them. In the darkness, the commander of the guards could not make out the unit, wondering why they were heading for the palace at this time of night. He was wary, knowing what would happen to him if something happened.
The officer in charge of the unit saluted the waiting officer smartly and presented the papers he was carrying in his tunic. “We are here to transport the prisoners, Lieutenant. The orders have changed.”
Reading the orders, the officer of the guard glanced at the cap insignia. The Latvian Guard.
The ones who took the general prisoner. The papers seemed in order. He had first been told that the prisoners would be moved in the morning. He looked at the officer of the Latvians, who looked back without expression.
Billy could see the guard outside the door. He watched him straighten and look down the narrow hall. Then Billy heard the steps of a large group of men. He listened as the men outside talked. Anna and Carson listened also. Billy looked at Carson, who returned his glance. As the door opened, Billy stiffened as he looked into the eyes of the tall officer.
“Move quickly, please.” The officer stood aside as the three prisoners moved into the hallway. They climbed the stairs; no one spoke. As they walked outside, Billy breathed the fresh air into his lungs. Speaking to the officer of the guard, the Latvian officer then saluted smartly and loaded the soldiers and the three prisoners onto the lorry. Ten minutes from when the lorry pulled to a stop and the troops dismounted, they were on their way. Heading east until they were out of sight of the palace, the lorry took the first right and headed southwest.
They stopped at the Narva Gate. Captain Trepov stepped out of the cab to shake the hands of Carson and the lieutenant. The captain had a great grin on his face.
“Outside the gate, you will see a small building on your right. It stands alone in the field. Wait there. Elizaveta Voravskii will meet you there and guide you to safety.”
“What will you do, Captain? They will be looking for you.”
“I will take these men and head south. I really don’t know. Look for some men who will fight with me, I suppose.” He turned to Billy. “Lieutenant, it has been an honor. My father says a soldier must learn to enjoy the good moments. I think of our friendship that way, Billy. Goodbye, my friend.”
Billy held tight to Yuri, then backed quickly away. Yuri was smiling at the young American’s embarrassment. Billy looked at Yuri. Will I ever see him again? He watched the lorry disappear to the south, the men waving until the darkness swallowed them.
---
Elizaveta looked at the evening newspaper, stunned at the headline. All day she had noticed the soldiers marching throughout the city. She had watched the machine guns being placed. She imagined that General Kornilov had arrived and the coup was underway. She was wrong. Kornilov Accused of Treason, it read. She felt the whole world falling apart. She felt her uncle’s hand on her shoulder. “If you were asked, could you find the small cottage on our estate near the bay?”
“Yes, Uncle. There is only one path leading to it. It is hidden among the fir trees. You can see the bay from the cottage. Have you found them?”
“Yes. Here is the address. There will be horses there. One of the men with you is from our estate. He has made arrangements along the way to rest. You will travel only at night.”
“What about you, Uncle? You will not be safe.” “They know nothing yet, Elizaveta.”
The girl hugged her uncle, trying not to let him see the tears that flowed down her face and onto his jacket. The count reached his hand under her chin.
“There are wonderful times ahead for you, Elizaveta. Look for them; they are there.”
He watched the girl walk up the stairs. He looked down at the headline, thinking of the treachery of the prime minister. He looked at the picture of Kerensky, his shock of black hair and his noble chin. A man who looks the part, the count thought.
“You are a fool, Alexander Feodorovich Kerensky. You just killed your last chance at your dream. Now who will protect you?”
---
Billy rode beside Elizaveta. Outlaws, they rode to distance themselves from their pursuers. He had failed. What would the Old Man think of him now? There was light in the east as Elizaveta turned north to the sea.
---
The sun beat down on the farmhouse where the three men and two women slept.
Outside, Sir Gustav and Sir Rupert sat on the corral fence, watching the pigs wallow in the mud beneath their feet.
“Did you know that Friederich has gotten himself out of Berlin and back on the eastern front?”
“I can read now, you know, Sir Gustav?”
“I didn’t know. Really? Why do you ask me to read to you, then?”
“I thought you liked to read to me. You know, little Willie is more enjoyable to be around, don’t you think? It’s because he’s not married.”
Gustav started to answer, but Rupert continued. “What do you think of Elizaveta? I like her. She reminds me a little of Elsbet. Don’t you think? You know, I saw Theresa the other day. I told her that Billy was doing OK.” Sir Rupert liked the sound of the American word, OK.
“Sir Rupert. I thought you said you wanted to sit quietly and watch the pigs.” The pigs rose and strolled to the other side of the corral.
“Do you think I was making too much noise?”
Chapter Three
By July, the Russian Armies were beaten in the south. By the middle of November, the Eighth Army was ready to move to cut off the Allied supply lines from Archangel and Murmansk, and finish the war in the east. Inside Russia, the Bolsheviks had taken power. Commanded by Oskar Hutier, the Eighth Army had stopped its advance when there was no resistance in front of them. It was if we were giving the Bolsheviks time to finish their work.
As the Eighth Army rested, cleaned their weapons, repaired their transport, the new Russian emissaries were provided with the German bill for the millions of marks given Lenin and his Party to complete the revolution. Friederich smiled when he heard that Max von Hoffman, who planned the victory at Tannenberg and was now doing the same in the south, was at the negotiating table at Brest-Litovsk. At the end of each session, Friederich wondered, who would be the most vexed at the haughty man, the Russians or his fellow negotiators.
Last week, Max had invited him to Warsaw to look over new proposals that were being drawn up. When he arrived, the general seemed in his usual good spirits.
“We have deluded ourselves over the last few months, believing the Bolsheviks would deal in good faith. While we are waiting, they are killing Ukrainians, Finns and Balts. We know they are putting together a revolutionary army. If we allow them to continue, they will turn Europe into a pigsty.”
“We will be moving soon, then?”
“Nothing official, but expect Oskar to be calling you in soon. No mind, Friederich, tonight we can celebrate old times. We can tell stories about “Was sagst du?” and his sidekick, Eric. Did you see the two of them while you were in Berlin?” “Max, someday, one of those eager young colonels you have on your staff is going to let Hindenburg and Ludendorff know that you are disloyal.” “Sometimes, it is good to be disloyal, Friederich. Sometimes, I think we are afflicted with loyalty.”
Friederich recalled the official from the Foreign Office boasting about its efforts to destabilize Russia. He remembered thinking that only history, once written, will speak to the wisdom of turning the Bolsheviks loose in Russia. If the Junkers were to be condemned for anything, it was their compulsion to underestimate those they dealt with. Often it cost them dearly.
“In the end, we have nothing left, not even our honor, Friederich, my dear friend.”
---
Tomorrow, his battalion would be the first to attack. It would begin again. Tonight, he would write a letter home. He thought of all the letters written disguising the goodbyes. The question, never spoken but always there, Will this be the last one? Friederich had been able to spend Christmas at Marborg. Erika, for all the war had pressed upon her, looked more beautiful than ever. Tomas was growing to be a fine young man. He had prayed for something he thought inconceivable only a few years ago. He repeated the prayer.
“Please God, end this war before it takes our children, too.”
The girls were doing well, he thought. He thought of his own childhood, and his heart would ache thinking of all the things he had that his children did not have, may never have. As a soldier, he could bear the hardship. For his children, he found it harder. Each time he was at home, he noticed the clothing the
children wore more threadbare. For the first time, he noticed that families had begun to share among themselves, passing down clothes their own children had outgrown. They ate meat only twice a week now, Erika had told him. He was pleased to find that Tomas had learned from the caretaker to trap animals. The red deer were gone now. Hungry people simply ignored the hunting laws.
It had helped that the children understood the difficult time most Germans were having. He had told them about the old ladies searching through the garbage in Berlin. He saw no reason to hide anything from them now. For five hundred years, the von Mecklenburgs had been protected from much of what happened. In exchange for risking the lives of the men for their mMaster, their duke, their king or their emperor, they were allowed to live in their manor houses and castles. Now, there was the possibility that all that would change. The more resilient, the tougher, the more resourceful, the greater the chances for survival of the von Mecklenburgs.
---
The battalion halted near the small fishing village twenty kilometers east of Riga. The forward posts of his battalion were no more than a hundred meters to his front. He could see the lights of fires of the Russian Army, perhaps two kilometers east. He climbed into the widow’s peak on the top of the house he had commandeered and looked out to the black, silent sea. It was a half-moon, and its light shone on the breakers as they closed in on the shore. He could see the dark forest that came up to the shoreline to the north. He could not see the small cottage where the young American had hidden until two days before.
---
The courier had appeared at the cottage where the four people stayed for the last four months. Billy wondered how he had gotten there, how he had appeared so early in the morning. The wind from the east was bitter, the sky gunmetal gray. Billy had been up early, opening the damper on the stove, filling it with firewood, and putting the tea pot on. The frost on the windows made movement outside appear like shadows. He had seen the shadow pass the window, and had lifted his revolver from its holster hanging on a wooden chair, and pushed it into his belt in the small of his back.
