My accounts of Nicholas II — first as a happy youth, then a reluctant Tsar, lastly as a disastrous Commander-in-Chief — follow the facts, as does Rasputin’s success with ladies of the nobility. Nestor Makhno’s Anarchist Brigade was a brutal reality in 1919, and the sad inadequacies of Russian hospital trains were all too true: disease, especially typhus, was rife. The vast wine cellars, used by Denikin to fund his treasury, existed, although not exactly where I located them. Another detaiclass="underline" the idea of decorating a ceiling with black footprints was not invented by aircrew in World War Two; it began a generation earlier.
The Royal Navy kept a large fleet in the Baltic, enjoyed victories and suffered casualties, mainly from mines; and Lloyd George did indeed — briefly and secretly — declare war on Soviet Russia. At the other extreme, Susan Perry’s pragmatic embalming technique reflects the methods of the time. The scale of official corruption at all levels, and especially the theft of British aid to Denikin, was as great as I indicate, and possibly greater; it was a large reason for his ultimate failure.
I have tried to do justice to the qualities of the Russian armies, both White and Red. The truth was enormously complicated. This book is primarily about the experiences of an R.A.F. squadron, living in trains and often isolated from the population, and so the picture of the wider campaigns must be sketchy, and — for purposes of narrative convenience — somewhat telescoped.
What they discovered about the Russian military — that it could be both brave and incompetent, resolute and corrupt, loyal and treacherous, long-suffering and thoughtless — left the R.A.F. officers baffled and bewildered. Atrocities were committed by both sides. Nichevo and vranyo played a real part in Russian life, and for all I know they still do. In the end, my reported comment of the bomber pilot who wished that both sides would lose reflected the views of many who served in the Intervention.
Life on an R.A.F. squadron in the Intervention was a strange mixture of bloody combat and a summer holiday in the countryside. They travelled by train, in some comfort, with plennys acting as batmen. Often the surroundings were pleasant, and an officer might take his horse and go shooting or fishing. They were nominally part of a White army, but in fact they were largely independent and a long way from British Mission H.Q. In those circumstances, it is not altogether surprising that a squadron might realize that Moscow was within range and plan to bomb it. This plan did, in fact, take shape. It seemed an obvious and desirable step to take in a war. Moscow had been the goal all along. It was the enemy’s H.Q. If it could be hit, why not hit it? When Mission H.Q., and then London, firmly refused permission, this must have seemed to the squadron a foolish decision. In London’s eyes, it was a wise precaution. The Russian Civil War was not yet won and lost. There was no merit in impetuous gestures.
There can be no doubt that the Intervention left Russia feeling threatened on all sides. After World War Two — when 1919 was only a generation ago — the Iron Curtain had one great merit from the Soviet point of view: it defended Russia’s borders against attack. In 1957 Nikita Khrushchev, on a visit to the United States, declared: “All the capitalist countries of Europe and America marched on our country to strangle the new revolution… Never have any of our soldiers been on American soil, but your soldiers were on Russian soil. Those are the facts.” The Intervention of 1919 cast a long shadow.
None of this can be confirmed or refuted by reading an Official History of the Intervention, because that work was never written (or, if written, was never published). No doubt Lloyd George’s government saw nothing but embarrassment in detailing the decision-making behind a venture that was costly in blood and money at a time when Britain could afford neither, and which ended in total failure. Compared with other campaigns, few first-hand accounts of the Intervention survive. The Day We Almost Bombed Moscow, by Christopher Dobson and John Miller (Hodder & Stoughton, 1986) tells the story of that incident and of many other facets of the Intervention. Two sets of memoirs by serving officers are very revealing. Farewell to the Don (Collins, 1970) is the journal of Brigadier H.N.H. Williamson, an artilleryman whose task was to advise and instruct Denikin’s armies. He travelled widely and saw both the best and the worst of the Russian soldier. Last Train Over Rostov Bridge (Cassell, 1962) is by Captain Marion Aten D.F.C., whose squadron flew Camels in many combats against the Red air force. They arrived in Russia full of enthusiasm and left it, months later, a lot wiser and not sorry to get out. The immediacy of their experience makes their accounts invaluable reading. Of other books on the subject, The Victors’ Dilemma: Allied Intervention in the Russian Civil War, by John Silverlight (Barrie & Jenkins, 1970) is scholarly and invaluable.
Any factual errors, of course, are down to me.
About the Author
DEREK ROBINSON writes about wartime flying and flyers better than anyone else. Yet there is more to his novels than the air combat of the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Air Force. There is a rich cast of characters for whom humour comes as naturally as breathing. It is this combination — men who take nothing seriously except flying — that makes Robinson one of the outstanding storytellers of his day.
He says that he owes much to luck. The Education Act of 1944 let him jump the class barrier and escape a Bristol housing estate for Cambridge. He read Modern History (which inexplicably ended in 1914) and escaped again to advertising agencies in London and New York. He escaped a third time to write two long and unpublishable novels, and finally, at the age of thirty-nine, got it right. Goshawk Squadron was shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 1971. It made enough money to finance the next novel. The rest is ink, sweat and tears…
Novels by Derek Robinson
Goshawk Squadron
Hornet’s Sting
War Story
A Splendid Little War
Piece of Cake
A Good Clean Fight
Damned Good Show
Hullo Russia, Goodbye England
The Eldorado Network
Artillery of Lies
Red Rag Blues
Operation Bamboozle
Kentucky Blues
Kramer’s War
Rotten with Honour
Invasion 1940
* Available from MacLehose Press from 2012/13
** To be published in ebook by MacLehose Press
Copyright
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by
Quercus
55 Baker Street
7th Floor, South Block
London W1U 8EW
Copyright © 2013 by Derek Robinson Map copyright © by Emily Faccini
The moral right of Derek Robinson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.