by Griff Hosker
“I was with him until yesterday evening. We met with the general at the border at Krasnaya Gorka. It is less than twenty miles from Peterhof. The spy he had planted in Peterhof brought the news. I was there to confirm that the Count had ordered the raid and then I was dismissed and Vladimir left me. I took a boat over here immediately. It was a ghastly journey.”
“So, the Count could now be working for the Bolsheviks? Equally, he could be working for himself?”
“I suspected something when Alexei left his service so suddenly. That was a damned fine piece of work from you. Alexie and Sergei, the man with him, were assassins of the highest calibre.”
“So the Bolsheviks were behind the sabotage attempt. The Count was working for them?”
“No, he is working for himself. He may well be using General Yudenich. If I was there I might be able to discover his motives but, I fear, that will not happen. Vladimir has been seduced and the Count will soon know that I am more than just an Embassy official. This is my last night in the Baltic, I am afraid. I will be heading to Reval where Captain Hesketh will be docking in a week or so.”
“I see.” I felt deflated and used.
“I came here to meet you in person because I thought I owed it to you to explain the Count’s actions. I genuinely thought I might be able to discover what he was up to but he is a clever man and when he suborned Vladimir then he did not need me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Vladimir took a notebook from me. I thought I had secreted it somewhere safe but Vladimir is a bright youth. That explains why the Count did not take him before. He was tempting him with the promise of serving Russia in return for betraying me.”
“Is the notebook…”
“A liability? No. It is in my own code. If they break it then they are cleverer than I thought but it has rendered me useless. I am no longer an asset for His Majesty’s Government. I daresay they will send me somewhere else.” He shook his head. “I should have known he was up to something.” He reached into his pocket and took out a leather bag. “Young Vladimir asked me to give you these.”
“What are they?”
In answer, he emptied on to the table ten gold coins. Each bore the image of the dead Tsar. “I cannot accept these.”
“I am afraid you will have to as we have no way of giving them back to the headstrong Vladimir. He came to me poor but, with the Count’s help, he managed to access his family’s bank accounts. He is a rich young man although I fear that the Count now has the funds. Vladimir said that these were to thank you for destroying the enemy aeroplanes.” He put the coins back in the bag and slid it over to me. “Take them. They are as nothing to Vladimir. His family was rich. Keep them as remembrance of a fine young man.” The way he spoke suggested that Vladimir was already dead.
“I will take them but I will tell my superiors in London when I return.”
He nodded, “As you wish.” The food arrived. “Splendid. This meal is on me. Enjoy it Squadron Leader. I have enjoyed meeting you. I can see you will have a glittering career.”
We spoke at length about the politics of Russia. He was a very intelligent man and I learned much. Many of the names he mentioned became household names but at that time they were unknowns. He also spoke of the politics of the wider world. I saw that although he was stationed in Russia, he had served the Empire in other far flung stations. We wrapped up for the cold and he took his stick. “What time are you being picked up, Squadron Leader?”
“The boat will be back at ten.”
“Good then we can walk back to my hotel. This is a pretty little town. Before the war is a was popular as a holiday resort with people like the Count and Vladimir. I daresay they will enjoy prosperity when the war is over.”
He was right. It was pretty. However, we also found out if could be dangerous. He had cut through an alley. He wanted to show me a café which only opened in the summer. It seemed it had been popular with one of the younger members of the Tsar’s family. It was just around the corner from Mr. Rees’ hotel.
He suddenly whispered. “Squadron Leader, we are not alone. There is danger before us and behind us.” Even as he spoke three figures emerged before us. They carried wooden staves. “I should take out your revolver. It may cow them.”
As I did so I looked behind us. There were two more men and they held knives. “What are these? Robbers? Footpads?”
“I fear these are working for either the Bolsheviks or, perhaps, the Count. They mean to do us deadly harm.”
I took out my revolver and cocked it. Surprisingly it did not seem to worry the men behind us. Of course, there were five of them. Then I heard the hiss as Mr. Rees pulled the sword from his stick. He said, calmly, “If you would deal with the three with the staves I will show these gentlemen that my weapon has a greater reach than theirs.”
I turned around and levelled my gun at the three men with staves. They were ten feet from me. The Webley was double action. I would get but two shots off before they were upon me. I aimed at the one in the middle and then pulled back the hammer. I had very little Russian but I used what I had. “Move and you die!” I had no doubt that my accent was execrable but I saw that he understood. I was not certain how we would stand with the police if I shot one. Behind me I heard the swish of the sword stick and a cry. That made one of the men in front of me move. I lowered my gun and fired before his feet. The snow which had lain there as now a slushy mush. The bullet struck the cobbles and sent chips flying up. One caught him in the cheek. The report was loud and the three of them turned and ran. I whipped around and saw the other two running away. One held his cheek and the other his hand. Their knives were lying in the slush. Mr. Rees knelt to pick them up. He gave them to me. “A souvenir!”
“Do we wait for the police?”
He laughed as he sheathed his sword in his stick. “The police will not bother until the morning. Then they will come to see if there are bodies. I fear my deviation has put your life in peril, Squadron Leader. I apologise. Come I will escort you back to the dock.”
“I am fine. I still have my revolver.”
“I am responsible for you. I will walk you back to the dock.”
He put his hand in my back and we headed back down the alley. Once at the dock he left me for there was a pair of marines who were acting as provosts. They would deal with any drunks.
He took off his glove as did I and we shook hands. “Farewell, Squadron Leader. You handled yourself well back there. But then I would expect nothing less of a man such as you.” He smiled, “You still have the coins?” I nodded. “Good. Use them wisely.”
And then he was gone. As I waited at the dock, smoking my pipe and waiting for the rest of the men on shore leave I tried to take in all that I had learned. I had worked out a tiny part of it all but Mr. Rees had been the biggest surprise. He was a spy. He had seemed an ineffective and dapper official but I now saw that was his disguise. He had handled the assassins well. In fact, better than well. He had done this sort of thing before. My hands had been shaking until I had reached the dock and yet he seemed calmness personified. We had spoken while we ate and I had learned much about him. He had steel in him. I think Vladimir was his attempt to do something good. He had hoped to save Vladimir from himself and the Count. That had been the part which had disappointed the enigmatic Mr. Rees the most. I had been close to a mysterious world and not known it.
Over the next two weeks the weather improved but only slightly. Ten days after the raid I was able to fly back to Peterhof to take more photographs. Only Bob Newton’s Strutter was available to come with me. The two of us flew over the Bolshevik fleet and then Peterhof. The airfield was deserted. Blackened buildings showed where the workshops had been but there was no other sign that an airfield had ever existed. We headed back to the fleet. It was confirmation that we had been successful and that Lieutenant Agar could carry out his mission. I had even seen the boats. They were flimsier than the first aeroplanes we had flown but he seemed confident that he could ca
rry out his mission.
A week after my flight Major Donald arrived and with him were my orders. I was to return on the freighter which had brought him and his new aeroplanes and return to England. Mr. Churchill had kept his word but he still wished to see me in London before he would allow me to return to my family. It was a small price to pay.
Bert and George would stay with the carrier. They were both sad to see me leave. The aircrews, however, were positively distraught. This had never happened to me before. Normally I was the survivor and it was others who left. Now I was and it was they who felt abandoned. And, of course, I would be leaving behind my Camel. To me she was more than canvas and metal. She was a living thing. When I had flown her, I had felt as one. After the party in the mess I went down to the hangar and bade her farewell. She was a good bus. Then I took my bags and boarded the tender which took me to the freighter. Many of the crew lined the decks to wave me off. I was touched.
England
Chapter 7
We did not dock in London but in Newcastle. I learned, from dour Captain Armstrong, that they were picking up some tanks and taking them to the White Russians on the Dvina. Despite Mr. Rees’ view, the British Government was still supporting the White Russians. I think I agreed with him and that we should stay out of it. I had had time, on the voyage south, to reflect on the situation. Napoleon had once tried to conquer Russia and failed for it was a vast country. The internecine war would go on for years and bleed the country dry. Men like the Count proliferated on both sides. I had learned that during my dinner with Mr. Rees who told me of some of the Bolshevik leaders. It struck me that they were as bad as the Count. The British soldiers, sailors and airmen were there for political reasons. None had died during my time but I knew that some would. When the weather improved brave Gus Agar would try to sink the fleet. I could not see how he could avoid losses.
A travel warrant had been waiting for me on the ship and I took a train from Newcastle to London. I was tempted to take a train directly home but I still had a career to think about and it would not do to upset the Secretary of the Air. I settled into the seat for it would be a long journey. The fields through which we passed were green and it felt strange after the white world of Finland and Estonia. As we left Darlington I wondered how Lumpy, my old gunner, fared in Stockton just a few miles east of me. England was now recovering after the war. Soldiers had returned from four years of hell to a different world. Women were more likely to work. There were moves to give them the vote. We had spent most of the countries reserves funding a war and now we had to rebuild.
I saw signs of the rebuilding as we headed south. I saw building work in Doncaster and Peterborough as we passed through. Returning soldiers needed somewhere to live. Roads were being improved. We now had more and better motor cars. I had even heard that someone, an ex-Flying Corps pilot, was trying to find a commercial use for the old Handley Page Bomber. We had left for war in 1914 and come back to a different country. Was I hiding from it by staying in the service? I would speak to Beattie about that. She was my rock.
It was late when I arrived in London and I went to my club. I had a great deal of luggage. I wondered how I would get it home. My car was many miles to the north. I could not expect Beattie to come south with a baby in tow. The next day I walked around to Whitehall. The orders I had received were to report to the ministry as soon as I arrived. It was Mr. Balfour whom I met. I viewed him differently now. Mr. Rees was not what he seemed. I doubted that Mr. Balfour was either. From what I had learned the planning for my operation had been his work.
He was effusive in his praise, “Squadron Leader, what a delight to see you! I have read the reports and you exceeded every demand made of you. Splendid! Splendid! Mr. Churchill is impressed and he is not a man who is easily impressed, let me tell you.” He gestured for me to go upstairs. “If you come with me to my office I will have a little chat and then you can have a month’s leave. Mr. Churchill said that you will need it.”
His words had an ominous ring to them. His office was a little cubby hole, no more. However, it was well organised and I could see Mr. Balfour’s fingerprints all over it. He picked up the telephone. “Tea for two, if you please, Mavis.” He looked up at me. “Now you may well be wondering why you are not being sent to the Dnieper as Mr. Churchill suggested?”
I smiled, “I hoped it had slipped his mind. The Russian intrigues are a little much for a country boy like myself.”
“Do not disparage yourself. Mr. Rees spoke very highly of you. He suggested to Captain Cummins that you would make a valuable agent. Mr. Churchill thought about it but he has decided to keep you for the Royal Air Force”
“That’s very good of him.”
The official wagged his finger as he admonished me. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Squadron Leader. You will do well with Mr. Churchill’s patronage. Anyway, as I said, you will not be needed on the Dnieper. Those aeroplanes are being pulled out. After they are refitted they will be sent to the Middle East or India.”
The door opened and a homely looking woman appeared laden with a tray. I rose and took it from her. “Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Balfour looked bemused, “I am sure Mavis can handle a tray.”
I had known people like Mavis on the estate. They were treated well by Lady Mary but I knew they had a hard life. I smiled, “I am sure she can but my mother raised me to be a gentleman.”
Mavis beamed at me, “And she did a good job, sir. Thank you.” She closed the door as she left.
Shaking his head Mr. Balfour poured the tea. “Down to business, Squadron Leader. Mr. Churchill has come to the conclusion that people like Count Fydorervich are unlikely to be able to defeat the Bolsheviks and neither the cabinet nor the country is in the mood for another war of attrition.”
“So the flotilla and ground troops will be pulled out?”
“Probably but that is not your concern. You destroyed a threat and demonstrated quite clearly that a few aeroplanes, judiciously used and piloted by men such as yourself can have an effect far greater than the actual numbers would suggest.” He sipped his tea and nodded appreciatively. Taking a biscuit, he stood and munched as he pointed at the map of the Middle East. “Turkey has lost its Ottoman Empire. It will not be given it back again. The land which formerly made up the Empire has been divided up and France and Great Britain will operate Protectorates over Mesopotamia, Syria, Lebanon and the like. We already police Egypt and the Sudan. It will make the lives of the people living there both safer and more productive.”
I was not certain that they would see it that way. I said nothing and sipped my tea. Mr. Balfour must have sensed my unspoken criticism.
“The Turks were both cruel and inefficient, Squadron Leader. Colonel Lawrence helped to liberate them and if you wish to know of their methods then I suggest you speak with him.” I nodded. “Mr. Churchill intends to use our squadrons to police the huge expanse of desert. You are to be based, eventually, in Mesopotamia. There will be three squadrons there. Two of fighters and fighter bombers and one of bombers. I suspect that the numbers will increase but this will be enough for you to start with. We would like you as senior Squadron Leader. Each of the Squadrons will have their own squadron leader but you will have overall control.”
“But I have never commanded more than one squadron sir!”
“No one has Squadron Leader. You are part of the experiment.” He took a large folder and placed it in a leather satchel. “Here is the information you will need. After your experiences in Russia I have no need to tell you that you need to be security minded. Although you have a month off we will be in touch with you regularly. The Secretary of State is arranging for you to have a telephone put in at your home.”
“I am afraid that the house I have is rented. I have some savings and I was going to see what we could buy.”
“You will have an increased salary and I am certain arrangements could be made.”
I shook my head. Then I remembered the coins. “Be
fore I forget sir.” I took out the purse and poured the coins on the table. “Mr. Rees’ translator gave me these. I cannot accept them.”
He laughed, “Of course you can. Mr. Rees told me about them. They are the spoils of war. If I were to take them what would I do with them? They would disappear into the treasury and no one would thank you for that. Accountants! It seems to me that this is serendipitous. These, with your savings should buy you a good home. I would suggest somewhere close to London. We don’t want you in the back of beyond up at Burscough. And as for the paucity of your accommodation… we will put the telephone in and when you move to a better home then we will move it. It is the least we can do. Now, at the moment, the three squadrons are paper only. We know who we want but they have yet to be approached.” He tapped a folder. “I have your address and we will be in touch. Enjoy your leave. When you go to Mesopotamia do not expect to be back soon. Your family can, of course, go with you.” He shrugged, “I personally would not risk a white woman in that part of the world but then I never married. It is your decision.”
I nodded and stood. The meeting was obviously over. I pocketed the coins. I would ask Beattie about them. “Very well, sir.”
I went directly to my club. I packed just an overnight bag. I arranged to have my luggage sent on to me and I headed for the station. I would be home by tea time. I had a compartment to myself and so I began to read up on the task I had been set. Suddenly Gordy and Ted seemed to have made better decisions about their future.
I indulged myself with a taxi from the station. At one time that would have seemed a ridiculous expense but after studying the papers I discovered that my new salary would enable us to live a little better. Money had never bothered me. I had fought for my country and my brothers in arms. Now it was a career and I had a family to consider. I realised that I had now accepted the coins. I would still mention them to Beattie but the coins did not now seem like ill-gotten gains.
