On November 4 I received a telegram from Mr. Preston, British Consul at Ekaterinburg, asking that a detachment might be sent to attend on November 9 at the inauguration of Czech national life and the ceremonial presentation of colours to four Czech battalions of the Czech National Army. I consulted General Knox, and he having received a similar request from General Gaida, commanding at Ekaterinburg, that a detachment should visit the several fronts over the Urals for the purpose of giving moral support to the war-weary veterans of our Allies, it was decided that I should take the regimental band and a guard of one hundred picked men for this purpose. Both Czech and Russian were sad at the long weary wait between the promised help of England and the appearance of the first khaki-clad soldier on the scene.

All preparations had been made for my journey, and I was timed to start from Omsk at 3 P.M. on Friday. Early on Friday I was informed that Admiral Koltchak, the Minister for War, was also travelling to the Czech ceremony, and, as engines were very scarce, would I allow his carriage to be attached to my train? I readily consented. About midday a further note informed me that the admiral's own car was found to be full of the wives and children of his old naval officers, that there were no other cars, but they hoped to be able to get another by 7 P.M. The result was that we did not turn out of the town station till that hour. We had only got to the lower station, less than a mile on our journey, when the officials informed me that something had broken on the admiral's carriage which would take two hours to repair. I felt there was a deliberate attempt being made by someone to prevent either the admiral or myself from performing our journey. At 11 P.M. I walked out to the workshops where the repairs were being effected, and sat on an anvil until 4 A.M., through a horrible Siberian night, while a good-tempered "Russky" blacksmith accomplished his part of the task.

No Russian official would dream of doing a straight thing if a crooked one would accomplish his purpose. So "Polkovnika" Frank telegraphed in my name to all the railway section commandants ordering them under pain of summary execution to clear their part of the line and prepare express engines at each stopping-place ready to haul on to the admiral's train the moment it came in. We bribed an old Russian provodnik to get us a Russian flag to fasten on the admiral's carriage, which he did, and we became the first Russian train that had dared to carry a Russian flag for nearly a year. We also had two Union Jacks, and altogether the Russian officials became suspicious that here at any rate was a combination of colour to which the greatest respect must be paid.

The result was that we finally started on our journey at 7 A.M. instead of 7 P.M., just twelve hours late, and arrived at our destination one hour in front of time. Guards of honour awaited us, and breakfast of a more or less scanty character. A presentation of bread and salt, on a fine wooden dish on which the ladies had painted a picture of the old monastery under whose walls the great Czech national ceremony was to take place. We marched past the building in which the Tsar Nicholas II and his family had been imprisoned and from which they were taken to die. I am anxious not to believe the untold horrors alleged to have been inflicted on the female members of his family, but they are told categorically. It is best to believe nothing one hears in Russia, and what one actually sees is not always what it seems.

We saluted the flag at the Consulate, where our great good comrade and fellow-countryman, Consul Preston, gave warmth and good cheer to man and beast. Suddenly we turned to the right and entered a huge square, already surrounded by Czech troops, infantry, artillery and cavalry. It was indeed a great sight. On the highest corner of the square a platform was erected, on the right of which we were given the post of honour, and for some strange reason which I could not understand were asked to play the British National Anthem, when the whole Czech Army came to the "Present!" as General Gaida and his Staff, with the colours, entered the square. I felt that we were celebrating the birth of a nation. The scene had that peculiar solemnity about it that makes the moment feel pregnant with world events. One of the units was my old Ussurie battalion, and our old chum, Captain (now Colonel) Stephan, was the proudest man there, as he bore from the hands of the priest the newly-consecrated colours of his country. What quantities of beer we shall drink together if I ever see him in his dear Prague, thinking of our thirsty days in Eastern Siberia!

It was my first introduction to the dashing young Czech officer, General Gaida, who by sheer pluck had played such an important part in cutting a way for his army from west to east. We had the usual banquet, at which Admiral Koltchak delivered the first important speech since his appointment as Minister for War. I gave expression to the delight of my own country at the birth of new nations and the resurrection of freedom amongst the subject people of the world. I also gave expression to my pleasure that the first act of the new Russian Minister for War was to visit his army at the front and make himself personally acquainted with the conditions of the Russian soldiers who were so gallantly fighting to protect the people and the State from violence and anarchy.

The ceremony over, we started at once for the Kunghure front, and the early morning found us sliding rapidly down the European side of the Urals. Huge forests, all loaded with snow, covered the mountain sides, and there was a temperature quite impossible for British military operations. We arrived about 11 A.M. at the headquarters of the army under the command of General Count Galitzin. We held long conferences and then lunched in his mess, which was quartered in an eight-wheeled American truck. An occasional shell exploded first to right and then to left, but none came very near, and by 2 P.M. the firing died away altogether. It was decided to march to the advanced outpost and take the band to give both friend and foe an opportunity to judge a sample of British music. We got to the extreme point near which a cutting in the railway gave excellent protection for the band, while the admiral's Staff and my Middlesex guard went forward to have a look at the enemy. The band started "Colonel Bogey," then went on to something which I do not remember, but while we were groping about through machine-gun pits, etc., the band behind began "Tipperary." That just put the finishing touch to Bolshevik patience! This famous war tune got on their gunners' nerves and they began to shell the tune for all they were worth. Needless to say not a single shell went anywhere near the mark. All shrieked over our heads and exploded harmlessly among the forest trees; one, however, dropped near the railway bridge and went off like a Hampstead squib on a wet bonfire night. It shows an utter lack of culture among the Bolshevik officers that they could not appreciate good music after we had taken so much trouble to bring it within their reach. The band finished and the shelling ended. I expect they fancied they had frightened my bandsmen, but the fact was they enjoyed the unique experience immensely.

General Count Galitzin is a very fine type of the officer of the old rÉgime; an aristocrat to his finger tips, but a fine leader of men, born to command. I should think there is a big strain of Tartar blood in his make-up, but he is altogether the sort of man one would prefer to meet as friend rather than foe. We discussed the possibility of an offensive in the direction of Perm, from where I humorously suggested we might be able to rescue the forces of General Poole, which had gone into winter quarters somewhere in the direction of Archangel. We returned to Ekaterinburg, and without stopping, proceeded towards the Lisvin front to meet General Pepelaieff.

We arrived on the Lisvin front about 10 A.M. next day, but did not see the enemy or hear his guns. This army had been compelled to retire some 60 versts the very day we were discussing an advance on Perm, and its present position was none too secure. Pepelaieff is a young general, not more than thirty, but looked a real hard-working soldier. His uniform was as dirty and worn, though not quite so dilapidated, as the majority of his soldiers. He had absolute confidence that he could beat the enemy if his men had rifles and ammunition, which many had not. Half his men were waiting for the rifles of comrades who might be killed or frozen in the snow. The conferences were quite businesslike, and Admiral Koltchak's presence seemed to galvanise the whole army into life and energy. The "Russky soldat," whose boots had long since disappeared and whose feet were bound up in bags to protect them from the snow, felt almost certain that proper boots and clothes would follow from the War Minister's visit. Pepelaieff came back in my carriage to meet General Gaida, and the admiral also relished a British soldier's ration as we discussed things generally, including the proposed advance and the necessary measures to make it into a victory.

We were to have gone next to the extreme right, where General Verzbitsky operated on the flank, but the admiral said the condition of the soldiers was very sad, and his immediate business was to organise the rear and so secure the means by which the soldier at the front could do his duty. We saw the ceremonial of the presentation of colours to the 11th Siberian Rifles, a fine proceeding greatly enhanced by the fact that three officers of the regiment had rescued the colours (originally presented by Peter the Great) from the Bolshevik Revolutionaries, and as pedlars and peasants had tramped for months through the Bolshevik lines and brought them safely to the new regiment.

It was necessary for the admiral to see General Surovey and General Detriks and their Staffs at Chilliyabinsk, and also to have a look at the Ufa front. Travelling all night, we arrived at Chilliyabinsk next morning, and after quite a formal inspection of guards, we adjourned for lunch. The date I do not remember, but my old friend Colonel Pichon burst through all etiquette to inform me of the terms of armistice between Germany and the Entente, and brought out a bottle of champagne he had preserved for the occasion; we swore by all the powers above and below that we were the greatest people the world had ever seen in all its ages and intended to remain so.

Lunch over, I left the admiral to his generals and walked a little through this straggling, snow-swept town, firmly believing that we were about to start for Ufa. At 5 P.M. I was informed that the conferences were over and there were urgent reasons for an immediate return to Omsk. I did not object as I was not anxious to see more of this army of ill-fed, half-clad soldiers struggling to save the State under intolerable conditions. We started on our return journey and travelled till 11 A.M. next day, by which time we had arrived at Petropalovsk. Here the station commandant informed us that General Bolderoff wished our train to wait for his, as it was most essential that he should have a conference with the Minister for War. This was the first intimation I had received that General Bolderoff had left Omsk and was on his way to visit the Ufa front. The admiral invited me to his carriage and explained the critical situation at Omsk, but could give no reason for the sudden decision of the Commander-in-Chief to leave Omsk and meet him on the way. I had my suspicions that the two groups of the Government had come to grips, and that each had decided to destroy the other; that Admiral Koltchak was to be sounded as to which of these groups had his favour, and that his life, and perhaps that of his British escort, would depend upon his answer. Bolderoff and the people at Omsk were unaware of the presence of the British escort or its numbers, and while they may have discovered our joint appearance at the Ekaterinburg function, there had been no original decision to accompany the admiral to Chilliyabinsk. That was only arranged the previous day. In revolutions you can never be too careful, hence I gave orders to my men to load and be ready for instant action if necessary. Orders were also issued to patrol the platform and allow no people, uniformed or otherwise, to collect near the trains, and in no circumstances were the two soldiers who were to accompany the admiral to lose sight of him for one instant without reporting it to me. Two others stood guard at the entrance to General Bolderoff's carriage. When I saw the look on the face of the Commander-in-Chief's attendants I was satisfied that my precautions were no more than necessary.

The general's train drew into the station and Admiral Koltchak entered Bolderoff's carriage at exactly 12 noon on November 6, 1918. I asked my servant, Moorman, to take a "snap" of the two trains, as I felt that this conference was full of big events for Russia. While taking the snap a returned emigrant workman spoke to Moorman in good English. He asked who all these officers were and what they were all talking about, and when my servant informed him he did not know, the emigrant said: "It is all right so long as they do not want to bring back the old rÉgime, but if that is their object I can tell them that Russia will never submit to live under the old rÉgime again." I thought, and think now, that in that workman's words I heard the voice of Russia. The conference between the admiral and the general broke up at five o'clock; it had lasted five hours.

The admiral was hungry and came into my carriage for something to eat; his servants had nothing ready as it is the Russian custom never to begin to prepare a meal till you are ready to eat it. After the meal we talked, and from the conversation I gathered the nature of the questions discussed at his conference with the Commander-in-Chief. He asked me whether in England our Minister for War had any responsibilities placed upon him for the supply of clothing, equipment and general condition of the British Army? I replied that in England the Minister for War was responsible to the Cabinet and, through Parliament, to the country for the general efficiency of the British Army in every detail. He answered: "What would you think in England if the Commander-in-Chief told the Minister for War that these matters had nothing to do with him, that he would be allowed to keep a small office with two clerks but no staff, as it was the Minister for War's name only that was of any use to the Directorate (or in your case Cabinet), and the less he interfered with the affairs of his department the better for all concerned?" I answered: "If I were the Minister I should claim to have absolute control of my department, or resign." He thought a minute and said: "That is what I have done," or "what I intend to do," I forget which. From what followed I think it must have been the former, because I asked him what General Bolderoff said in answer to his claim, to which he replied: "General Bolderoff is a very good man, and though he does not see everything as I wish, I think he understands the situation, and will himself ask that greater power should be given to enable me to save the new Russian army, that it may be able to resurrect the Russian State." I well remember that word "resurrect"; it was so pregnant with truth. The State was dead, Russia was no more; resurrection was necessary.

We arrived at Omsk town station at 5.30 on the evening of November 17, 1918. The admiral thanked me for my help and my guard and for the kindness and protection I had afforded him. I promised him my continued help and sympathy in his patriotic attempt to revive the spirit of his people. He went straight to his lodgings and remained there.

The Times correspondent in a message to his newspaper has suggested that the admiral had prior knowledge of what was to happen that night in Omsk. I do not think that was the case. He may have guessed that something very unpleasant was in the wind—the least sensitive amongst those behind the scenes knew that—but what it was, from which direction it would come or on whom it would fall was a secret known to but very few, and I am convinced that the admiral, except in a second degree, was not one of them. Colonel (soon to be General) Lebediff could tell the whole story, though his name was not even mentioned during the coup d'État. A young and able Cossack officer, he was on the Staff of Korniloff when Kerensky invited the great Cossack general to march his army to Petrograd to save the newly-elected National Assembly. It is well known how, when Korniloff obeyed Kerensky's order, he treacherously turned and rent to pieces the only force which was moving at his own request and could have saved Russia. He, in turn, became the victim of the ghouls who urged him to this act of destruction. Lebediff escaped, but one can be certain that he retained a lasting hate towards the Social Revolutionaries who had betrayed his great leader.

The comrades of Kerensky, and in some cases the actual betrayers, had found refuge in the Directorate of Five and the Council of Ministers, and were continuing to play the same double game which had brought ruin on the first National Assembly and disaster upon the Russian people. They were members of the same futile crowd of useless charlatans who by their pusillanimity had made their country a byword and the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk possible. I was in a position to judge. I was certain that this young man was the wrong sort to allow the execution of his chief to pass without attempting punishment.

He had drifted down to Southern Russia and joined General Denikin in his first efforts against the Bolsheviks. Sent from Denikin with dispatches to Omsk, he became the centre of a group of desperadoes who were in want of a cool brain to make them formidable. The state of Omsk at this time was simply indescribable. Every night as soon as darkness set in rifle and revolver shots and shouts could be heard in all directions. The morning sanitary carts picked up from five to twenty dead officers. There were no police, no courts, no law, no anything. In desperation the officers grouped themselves together and hit back indiscriminately at the people they thought responsible for the murder of their comrades. So a fair proportion of civilian bodies became mixed up with those wearing uniforms. That the officers got home at last on the right people is proved by the fact that these nightly murders became fewer and then practically ceased altogether.

It was into this scene of blood that we were hurled, and this was the condition which had become quite normal in the capital under the rule of the five-pointed Directorate. Its members were the most unmitigated failures that even poor distracted Russia had so far produced, and the people waited, hoping and longing, for their speedy removal. I was not at all surprised when, next morning, my liaison officer, Colonel Frank, returned from the Russian Headquarters in great perturbation and with great excitement informed me that Russia was doomed never to rise out of her troubles. I asked why. He answered that during the night some villains had arrested the Social Revolutionary members of the Directorate and Government, that no one at Headquarters knew the persons who had again upset the whole government of the country, and he had no doubt that the members of the late Government were already murdered. I took the necessary precautions for the safety of my command and awaited developments. I knew that the telegraph to the east was cut and that a coup d'État was in course of execution.