Marriage in Omsk by a Sergeant on the 1/9th Hants

[Matlock1418]

1 minute ago, george57l said:

but setting aside the mis-spelling of Edinburgh (not Edingburgh)

Thanks for overlooking my transcription error My apology - 'finger trouble' at my end = Edinburgh

Pension Ledger definitely records "S" = Single

 

[george57l]

Just now, Matlock1418 said:

Thanks for overlooking my transcription error My apology - 'finger trouble' at my end = Edinburgh

Pension Ledger definitely records "S" = Single

 

Sorry - I just edited my last post as you were replying - I added that the date of the claim itself may explain the anomaly. I was assuming the claim was dated 1921/22, but perhaps not? How do I access the original source?

[Matlock1418]

4 minutes ago, george57l said:

I was assuming the claim was dated 1921/22,

The [pension record office] dates recorded on the ledger are 8/2/21, 14.10.21 and 31/10/22 [and a discharge date of 23-3-21]

So yes, it appears he was making a claim then - but they do have as single and in Edinburgh

[corisande]

At the time when my grandfather, George Robert Lillington, was resident in Edinburgh, he was married, not single.  Something does not add up. But the date of the claim itself may explain things - I am assuming the claim is 1921/22 - but perhaps not?

 

I suspect that the pertinent factor probably was when the army (or the British recognised the marriage. Do you know for certain that it had been officially recognised by 1921

[george57l]

2 hours ago, corisande said:

Do you know for certain that it had been officially recognised by 1921

It's possible it was not recognised by the army at that date. Good point.

[MaureenE]

If George Lillington's marriage was not recognised by the Army, which seems likely from the Pension Ledger record, then his wife Ludmilla would not have been entitled to transportation by the Army to Britain. This means that George and Ludmilla would have been responsible for organising , and paying, for her trip to Britain, which may have been both dangerous and expensive. At the time of the claim she may not even have been in Britain, and may possibly  have arrived some years later.

 

Perhaps the release of the 1921 census will show whether  Ludmilla was then in Britain.

 

Cheers

Maureen

[george57l]

Maureene,

You are correct, apart from her not being in Britain at the time. She arrived in Britain before Robert returned from Moscow after his release as a Russian prisoner.  I don't have time to detail it all here, for the time being, but the book referenced earlier in the thread, (Churchill's Abandoned Prisoners) sheds much light. The army not recognising their marriage fits what else has come to light as a result of the author's researches.

[MaureenE]

Nhclark in his post dated 15 July 2019 mentioned a book "Churchill's Abandoned Prisoners: The British Soldiers Deceived in the Russian Civil War" by Rupert Wieloch.

I came across the following article by the author Rupert Wieloch which has a couple of sentences in respect of the subject of this Great War Forum post, the marriage of Sergeant Bob Lillington of the Hampshire Regiment. 

“Vining’s group had become the last military prisoners of the Great War. The deceived men were to be sent to Moscow, where, they feared, awaited further incarcerated and near starvation, if not worse. Their dejection was felt most keenly by 24-year-old Sergeant Bob Lillington of the Hampshire Regiment. Renounced by his unit for marrying a Russian woman, Ludmilla Martinova, on August 31, 1919, in Omsk, he had given up his place in his battalion’s return home and did not know what was happening to his young wife.”

https://www.keymilitary.com/article/abandoned-siberia-part-two

Vining who is mentioned wrote an account of his experiences Held by the Bolsheviks: The Diary of a British Officer in Russia, 1919-1920  by L.E. Vining (Leonard Edward) 1924, which has a Google Books file, but apparently is not available  to read even in USA where it should be out of copyright https://books.google.com/books?id=T-FWAAAAMAAJ I would be interest to know whether anyone in Canada/USA/or elsewhere can access this book file.

I tried to archive the Wieloch article without success, so I am copying it here.

Maureen

"ABANDONED IN SIBERIA: Part Two by  Rupert Wieloch  30th January 2020

Locked up in appalling conditions, a party of captured British soldiers battled severe sickness as they waited and waited for release. Following on from last month’s issue, Rupert Wieloch describes how those men were, eventually, brought home.

Disavowed by a government at loggerheads over the issues of Russian trade and its ongoing civil war, a party of British soldiers a torrid detention in a filthy cell in Krasnoyarsk. As former allies of Admiral Alexander Kolchak, who had set up an alternative government in Omsk, they had escaped the Red Army’s onslaught of the city by the skin of their teeth in 1919, only to be captured by the Bolsheviks after enduring an arduous trek by train, sleigh and on foot through Siberian taiga country for two perishing winter months. Forgotten – perhaps conveniently – by some parliamentary elements in Britain, and their fate kept secret from the public, the men received no messages from the British Consul or the military mission.

One of the men was Brian Horrocks, a 24-year-old captain in the Middlesex Regiment, who owed his life to his best friend in Russia, Captain Eric Charles ‘Georgik’ Hayes of the Norfolk Regiment. Horrocks had quickly fallen ill in detention and without his compatriot, who was at his side throughout their shared Russian odyssey, the future Corps Commander and DSO awardee would have succumbed to the epidemic that killed millions of Russians during and after the Great War.

In February 1920, five weeks after he was captured by the Red Army and detained at Krasnoyarsk, Horrocks had contracted typhus – sifnoi teiff, as it was known in Russia. His commanding officer, Major Leonard Vining, Royal Engineers, believed Horrocks caught the disease – spread by body lice – while queuing for bread. However, it could quite as easily have been caused by sleeping in the lice-infested room the British group was allocated by Bolshevik authorities.

His symptoms began with a burning thirst and constant retching. Soon, a rash covered his body and his temperature soared. Vining managed to find a clean hospital in a converted school run by the American Red Cross, paying for a droshki to carry him to the medical sanctuary. Hayes accompanied his delirious friend and stayed night and day. Buttoned to the collar in a raincoat, he sat by Horrocks’ bed and fed him to give him strength, nursing him back to health during a bitterly cold month.

In the meantime, Vining’s disparate group was moved to the railway station and put into a 4th class carriage with three tiers of wooden bunks. The contingent included 14 soldiers and several women and children claiming British citizenship, all had fled the ‘Red Terror’.

No Escape

Vining had been ordered to “remain until the last” at Omsk and organise the evacuation of the city after the White Government collapsed, saving thousands. After they were captured and held at Krasnoyarsk, he and Warrant Officer Fred Walters discussed possible escape, but they knew from their December trek that the weak would not survive, and if they abandoned the women and children they had helped escape from Omsk, they would suffer. They remained at the railway station for a month, uncertain what would happen.

“They discussed possible escape, but they knew from their December trek the weak would not survive, and, if they left the women and children, they would suffer”

The only member of the group able to slip away was the Irish captain, Francis McCullagh, a 45-year-old journalist and intelligence officer who had stayed behind in Omsk when the nominated cipher officer fell ill. McCullagh persuaded the Soviet authorities that he was sympathetic to their cause and was allowed to join a westward reconstruction train. Meanwhile, American volunteer to the British Army, Emerson MacMillan, was led to believe he would be released to travel through Japanese-held Trans-Baikal to where his fiancée Dallas Ireland, a nurse, was waiting. However, this was not to be. Having managed to smuggle a letter out with some American medics, he wrote home on March 2, 1920: “We do not know whether we shall go east or west, but presume we are held as hostages, pending negotiations. They asked us to go to work to help straighten up the railways, but we refused. The Americans volunteered to go to work but were not accepted. In our party are all the other foreign missions – French, Italians – but we are entirely in the dark as to what will become of us.”

The men heard from Commissar Veniamin Sverdlov, whose brother had signed the Czar’s death warrant, that a prisoner exchange treaty had been agreed in Copenhagen. This raised hopes among the 14 captives of being sent on to Vladivostok and repatriation, as the British Military Mission to Siberia retained a small headquarters there. However, another of the group, Sergeant Frank ‘Illy’ Illingworth, fell ill in February, delaying their departure. Vining initially gave him nine grams of quinine because he suffered from malaria, but a few days later, a rash appeared. An American doctor confirmed he had typhus and it was not until March 18 that everyone was well enough, albeit malnourished, to be sent east.

Devastating Deception

A week later, they arrived in Irkutsk, but they could travel no further because the Red Army was fighting Japanese forces near Lake Baikal. Vining and Horrocks met the head of the Revolutionary Committee, but all arguments about the Copenhagen Treaty and onward travel were useless. The intransigent commissar told them they would have to remain until Moscow sent instructions. Meanwhile, the British Military Mission had wound down, with Major-General Sir Alfred Knox handing over to Colonel Charles Wickham when he was recalled following the collapse of Kolchak’s government.

Wickham maintained a diary and, on January 4, he recorded that the mission was still missing seven men and the railway group. A week later, Major Phelps Hodges and Lieutenant Paul Moss were reported to have crossed the Gobi Desert, heading to Peking, China. Four of the missing were captured in Tomsk. The remainder came through with the remnants of the White Army by the end of January. All who remained were of Vining’s charge. Communication with the prisoners was non-existent for three months, then a message arrived via China informing the British that Vining had reached Irkutsk. Wickham sent Captain Rex Carthew of the Bedfordshire Regiment to collect them, managing to cross the confrontation line two days later.

The morale of Horrocks and the others soared when Rex produced a bottle of “luscious” whisky and a packet of English cigarettes.

However, relief turned to dejection when the Bolsheviks told them that only the civilians could leave. The soldiers had to wait for the central government to decide their fate. Despite being devastated by the deception, when the women and children departed with Carthew on April 11, the men turned out to cheer them off. By the end of the month, all of the other British prisoners of war in Russia had been released. These included those captured at Archangel and Tomsk – along with Francis McCullagh, who had been tortured by the secret police in Lubjanka.

Despicably, the War Office demoted four of the prisoners from their temporary ranks (to save money) and ordered Wickham to return home. However, before departing on May 11, he entrusted a box car of supplies to an officer remaining with the Foreign Office, just in case the Bolsheviks released Vining’s group. This officer, Captain Norman Stilling of the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, was the last British liaison officer with Admiral Kolchak and his detailed report about the trial and execution of the self-styled supreme leader attracted the attention of Winston Churchill. The War Secretary presented it to the cabinet in the hope it would persuade the prime minister, David Lloyd George, not to make peace with Lenin.

The Last Prisoners

Vining’s group had become the last military prisoners of the Great War. The deceived men were to be sent to Moscow, where, they feared, awaited further incarcerated and near starvation, if not worse. Their dejection was felt most keenly by 24-year-old Sergeant Bob Lillington of the Hampshire Regiment. Renounced by his unit for marrying a Russian woman, Ludmilla Martinova, on August 31, 1919, in Omsk, he had given up his place in his battalion’s return home and did not know what was happening to his young wife.

Vining did his best to maintain morale, but this became more difficult when they were taken to Moscow. The sense of gloom deepened as they retraced their journey along the Trans-Siberian Railway. At Omsk, there was a further delay while the final British contingent in South Russia, under command of Brigadier Jocelyn Percy, was evacuated by the Royal Navy. The prisoners’ conditions were made worse when Commissar Podlovsky refused to recognise the Hague convention and withheld their ration cards. They had to sell clothing in the market to raise money for food.

It was on one of these outings that an incident happened that was to have a profound effect on their time in Russia. As the men assembled one morning, a small Siberian puppy crossed the railway line ahead of them. Unfortunately, a locomotive was passing, and the little mongrel became caught in its wheels. Captain ‘Bertie’ Prickett ran over and rescued the injured dog, whose hind leg was hanging by a flap of skin and whose tail was reduced to a stump. The adept officer completed the amputation and tightly bound the two wounds with bandages. All the others gathered around and made a fuss of the fluffy hound, feeding him a few morsels from their thin larder. They decided to adopt their diminutive new companion and named him Teddy. He rapidly learned to scamper around on three legs, dissipating melancholy moods by his cheerfulness and unbounded faithfulness. Any of the group who became too self-absorbed was soon shaken out of his gloom when Teddy came to play.

While the prisoners were on their way to Moscow, Winston Churchill took up their cause in his fight against the prime minister. After Lloyd George met the Soviet Envoy, Leonid Krassin, to discuss reopening trade with Russia, Churchill circulated a memorandum on June 11, demanding that the return of the missing prisoners of war, alive and well, must be made “the sine qua non of further negotiations”. Churchill had huge cross-party support in Parliament, with members appalled that the Government had lost track of the group.

“Vining’s courage in the face of the Cheka was extraordinary. He knew they had murdered untold masses during the repression [but] steadfastly resisted their interrogation”

Threat of Execution

When they finally arrived in Moscow, the British soldiers were taken to the infamous Lubjanka jail, where Francis McCullagh had been tortured the previous April. Vining’s courage in the face of the Cheka (secret police) was extraordinary. He knew they had murdered untold masses during the repression, „ „ which began in 1918, but he steadfastly resisted their interrogation. When at last the men were herded into a small cell, he did what the Russians least expected, pulling out a banjo and leading a patriotic singsong to lift morale.

The next day, they were moved to Ivanovsky jail, where there were 457 prisoners – 45 of whom were women – and where conditions were described as “verminous” in a British report. The soldiers were held in two cramped, liceinfested cells and put on half rations because they refused to work. The staple was dried herring, which reminded them of shrivelled shoe leather, only it smelled worse. Three-quarters of a pound of bread was issued in the morning, some unpalatable boiled grain arrived at midday and a watery “grey eyes” soup was the sum of the evening menu.

Complaints about conditions were met with disdain. At night, there were frequent unannounced searches, during which many of their belongings were stolen. There was also the threat of summary execution. The Cheka had developed many cruel and creative ways to torture and execute its victims, but in order to spare a bloody clean-up, they favoured nackenschuss. Prisoners were taken from their cells, told to descend some steps, and shot in the nape of the neck for minimal bloodletting. It was, at least, a quick death.

Two stray British servicemen joined the group in their cells. Captain Dwyer Neville of the RAF had contracted typhus at Tomsk and had been left in hospital when the other British officers were released in April. He arrived in August and, the following month, 23-year-old Pte Lionel Grant of the Gloucestershire Regiment, who had been captured at Baku, was also put under Vining’s care.

“The loyal hound had helped them through their ordeal, and they did not want to abandon him to be eaten or to die alone in the snow. Vining resolved to smuggle him through…”

After another tempestuous interview with the workers’ committee, the prisoners were moved to a harsher gaol near the Kremlin. To occupy themselves, Sergeant Joe Rooney, an accomplished musician, wrote a play which the British soldiers performed in a makeshift theatre. Unfortunately, Horrocks succumbed to jaundice and was taken to hospital. Whilst he was away, they heard British officials were in Moscow, attending the Second World Congress of the Communist International, and that Mrs Clara Sheridan was sculpting clay busts of the Soviet leaders. However, none of these disciples bothered to visit the British prisoners.

Offers of Marriage

In London, Churchill and the foreign secretary, Lord Curzon, continued to agitate for their return. Eventually, a protracted prisoner exchange was agreed between the two governments and the British soldiers were sent to Petrograd before their final release. In the former capital, they were looked after in the British Colony Hospital by the careworn matron Violet Froom, who acted as “ambassador, parson and everything combined”.

In their final week, all the men received offers of marriage from English women married to Russians, who were desperate to get their daughters out of the country. Finally, they were taken to the Finnish frontier. On the way, they were told that no dogs were allowed to cross the border due to the risk of rabies and there was a “great stew” what to do with Teddy. The loyal hound had helped them through their ordeal, and they did not want to abandon him to be eaten or to die alone in the snow. Vining resolved to smuggle him through and emptied a kit bag into which the reluctant Teddy was carefully hidden, much to the pup’s annoyance. When they crossed the footbridge over the river that marked the frontier, he started to complain, so the others closed ranks and boisterously sang It’s A Long Way To Tipperary at the top of their voices to drown the fretful whelps of their canine companion.

Walking past the Suomi soldiers in their grey uniforms, they still had to pass through the customs house in which their bags were checked, apparently for Bolshevik propaganda. While some of the party created noise to distract officials, Teddy was skilfully manoeuvred around the desk and placed with the checked baggage. With a huge sigh of relief, the men left the crossing point and released the thankful puppy, whose stumpy tail went around in circles as he gave everyone a good licking.

Horrocks shook Vining by the hand and thanked him for what he had done. He later wrote about his commander: “On his shoulders had rested the ultimate responsibility and now he had brought the whole party safely out of the darkness of Bolshevik Russia into the free world again”. He also attributed his experiences in Russia as excellent preparation for senior command in war: “I had learned to live rough and depend on nobody but myself and, having experienced the seamy side of life to the full, I was unlikely to be taken by surprise, however unexpected the crisis might be”.

Scattered Across the World

After spending time in quarantine and being interviewed by MI6, Vining’s party was picked up by the Royal Navy and returned to England via Denmark. When they arrived at Harwich, the Army tried to take them on to Colchester, but they slipped the net and caught the first train to Liverpool Street, arriving in London at 12.30pm on November 22, 1920.

Their return was recorded by The Times under the heading ‘From A Russian Gaol; Britons Who Served With Kolchak; Horrors of the Omsk Retreat’. Vining was not impressed when he saw the article was run next to an instalment of Clara Sheridan’s diary. What was worse was the fact that the government suppressed further coverage as they reopened trade with Soviet Russia.

All the soldiers acknowledged the part Leonard Vining played as their inspirational leader for more than a year. It remains extraordinary that this was not recognised with an appropriate award and that their story was forgotten for 100 years.

Within a month, the group had scattered all over the world – to Argentina, Australia, Canada, India, Ireland and the United States. Most of them were discharged from the army within days, but Horrocks and Hayes went on to become distinguished generals, in the next war rising to command XXX Corps and 3rd Infantry Division respectively, with Horrocks ending up heading the British Army of the Rhine and Hayes the British Troops in China. Major Vining returned to India and received the MBE in 1943. Emerson, the American, returned home and was able to marry his sweetheart.

Before the group separated, they shared a farewell dinner in the Cafe Royal. Tears of joy were shed that, despite cold, hunger, sickness and horrific incarceration, somehow they had all survived the incredible ordeal. Those who attended signed the back of a photograph which was taken on HMS Delhi with the ever-faithful Teddy in pride of place.

The author has had tremendous help from some of the relations of the characters in this article and would be delighted to hear from anyone whose forebears were in Siberia in 1919."

(End of article)

 

[FROGSMILE]

7 hours ago, MaureenE said:

Nhclark in his post dated 15 July 2019 mentioned a book "Churchill's Abandoned Prisoners: The British Soldiers Deceived in the Russian Civil War" by Rupert Wieloch.

I came across the following article by the author Rupert Wieloch which has a couple of sentences in respect of the subject of this Great War Forum post, the marriage of Sergeant Bob Lillington of the Hampshire Regiment. 

“Vining’s group had become the last military prisoners of the Great War. The deceived men were to be sent to Moscow, where, they feared, awaited further incarcerated and near starvation, if not worse. Their dejection was felt most keenly by 24-year-old Sergeant Bob Lillington of the Hampshire Regiment. Renounced by his unit for marrying a Russian woman, Ludmilla Martinova, on August 31, 1919, in Omsk, he had given up his place in his battalion’s return home and did not know what was happening to his young wife.”

https://www.keymilitary.com/article/abandoned-siberia-part-two

Vining who is mentioned wrote an account of his experiences Held by the Bolsheviks: The Diary of a British Officer in Russia, 1919-1920  by L.E. Vining (Leonard Edward) 1924, which has a Google Books file, but apparently is not available  to read even in USA where it should be out of copyright https://books.google.com/books?id=T-FWAAAAMAAJ I would be interest to know whether anyone in Canada/USA/or elsewhere can access this book file.

I tried to archive the Wieloch article without success, so I am copying it here.

Maureen

"ABANDONED IN SIBERIA: Part Two by  Rupert Wieloch  30th January 2020

Locked up in appalling conditions, a party of captured British soldiers battled severe sickness as they waited and waited for release. Following on from last month’s issue, Rupert Wieloch describes how those men were, eventually, brought home.

Disavowed by a government at loggerheads over the issues of Russian trade and its ongoing civil war, a party of British soldiers a torrid detention in a filthy cell in Krasnoyarsk. As former allies of Admiral Alexander Kolchak, who had set up an alternative government in Omsk, they had escaped the Red Army’s onslaught of the city by the skin of their teeth in 1919, only to be captured by the Bolsheviks after enduring an arduous trek by train, sleigh and on foot through Siberian taiga country for two perishing winter months. Forgotten – perhaps conveniently – by some parliamentary elements in Britain, and their fate kept secret from the public, the men received no messages from the British Consul or the military mission.

One of the men was Brian Horrocks, a 24-year-old captain in the Middlesex Regiment, who owed his life to his best friend in Russia, Captain Eric Charles ‘Georgik’ Hayes of the Norfolk Regiment. Horrocks had quickly fallen ill in detention and without his compatriot, who was at his side throughout their shared Russian odyssey, the future Corps Commander and DSO awardee would have succumbed to the epidemic that killed millions of Russians during and after the Great War.

In February 1920, five weeks after he was captured by the Red Army and detained at Krasnoyarsk, Horrocks had contracted typhus – sifnoi teiff, as it was known in Russia. His commanding officer, Major Leonard Vining, Royal Engineers, believed Horrocks caught the disease – spread by body lice – while queuing for bread. However, it could quite as easily have been caused by sleeping in the lice-infested room the British group was allocated by Bolshevik authorities.

His symptoms began with a burning thirst and constant retching. Soon, a rash covered his body and his temperature soared. Vining managed to find a clean hospital in a converted school run by the American Red Cross, paying for a droshki to carry him to the medical sanctuary. Hayes accompanied his delirious friend and stayed night and day. Buttoned to the collar in a raincoat, he sat by Horrocks’ bed and fed him to give him strength, nursing him back to health during a bitterly cold month.

In the meantime, Vining’s disparate group was moved to the railway station and put into a 4th class carriage with three tiers of wooden bunks. The contingent included 14 soldiers and several women and children claiming British citizenship, all had fled the ‘Red Terror’.

No Escape

Vining had been ordered to “remain until the last” at Omsk and organise the evacuation of the city after the White Government collapsed, saving thousands. After they were captured and held at Krasnoyarsk, he and Warrant Officer Fred Walters discussed possible escape, but they knew from their December trek that the weak would not survive, and if they abandoned the women and children they had helped escape from Omsk, they would suffer. They remained at the railway station for a month, uncertain what would happen.

“They discussed possible escape, but they knew from their December trek the weak would not survive, and, if they left the women and children, they would suffer”

The only member of the group able to slip away was the Irish captain, Francis McCullagh, a 45-year-old journalist and intelligence officer who had stayed behind in Omsk when the nominated cipher officer fell ill. McCullagh persuaded the Soviet authorities that he was sympathetic to their cause and was allowed to join a westward reconstruction train. Meanwhile, American volunteer to the British Army, Emerson MacMillan, was led to believe he would be released to travel through Japanese-held Trans-Baikal to where his fiancée Dallas Ireland, a nurse, was waiting. However, this was not to be. Having managed to smuggle a letter out with some American medics, he wrote home on March 2, 1920: “We do not know whether we shall go east or west, but presume we are held as hostages, pending negotiations. They asked us to go to work to help straighten up the railways, but we refused. The Americans volunteered to go to work but were not accepted. In our party are all the other foreign missions – French, Italians – but we are entirely in the dark as to what will become of us.”

The men heard from Commissar Veniamin Sverdlov, whose brother had signed the Czar’s death warrant, that a prisoner exchange treaty had been agreed in Copenhagen. This raised hopes among the 14 captives of being sent on to Vladivostok and repatriation, as the British Military Mission to Siberia retained a small headquarters there. However, another of the group, Sergeant Frank ‘Illy’ Illingworth, fell ill in February, delaying their departure. Vining initially gave him nine grams of quinine because he suffered from malaria, but a few days later, a rash appeared. An American doctor confirmed he had typhus and it was not until March 18 that everyone was well enough, albeit malnourished, to be sent east.

Devastating Deception

A week later, they arrived in Irkutsk, but they could travel no further because the Red Army was fighting Japanese forces near Lake Baikal. Vining and Horrocks met the head of the Revolutionary Committee, but all arguments about the Copenhagen Treaty and onward travel were useless. The intransigent commissar told them they would have to remain until Moscow sent instructions. Meanwhile, the British Military Mission had wound down, with Major-General Sir Alfred Knox handing over to Colonel Charles Wickham when he was recalled following the collapse of Kolchak’s government.

Wickham maintained a diary and, on January 4, he recorded that the mission was still missing seven men and the railway group. A week later, Major Phelps Hodges and Lieutenant Paul Moss were reported to have crossed the Gobi Desert, heading to Peking, China. Four of the missing were captured in Tomsk. The remainder came through with the remnants of the White Army by the end of January. All who remained were of Vining’s charge. Communication with the prisoners was non-existent for three months, then a message arrived via China informing the British that Vining had reached Irkutsk. Wickham sent Captain Rex Carthew of the Bedfordshire Regiment to collect them, managing to cross the confrontation line two days later.

The morale of Horrocks and the others soared when Rex produced a bottle of “luscious” whisky and a packet of English cigarettes.

However, relief turned to dejection when the Bolsheviks told them that only the civilians could leave. The soldiers had to wait for the central government to decide their fate. Despite being devastated by the deception, when the women and children departed with Carthew on April 11, the men turned out to cheer them off. By the end of the month, all of the other British prisoners of war in Russia had been released. These included those captured at Archangel and Tomsk – along with Francis McCullagh, who had been tortured by the secret police in Lubjanka.

Despicably, the War Office demoted four of the prisoners from their temporary ranks (to save money) and ordered Wickham to return home. However, before departing on May 11, he entrusted a box car of supplies to an officer remaining with the Foreign Office, just in case the Bolsheviks released Vining’s group. This officer, Captain Norman Stilling of the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, was the last British liaison officer with Admiral Kolchak and his detailed report about the trial and execution of the self-styled supreme leader attracted the attention of Winston Churchill. The War Secretary presented it to the cabinet in the hope it would persuade the prime minister, David Lloyd George, not to make peace with Lenin.

The Last Prisoners

Vining’s group had become the last military prisoners of the Great War. The deceived men were to be sent to Moscow, where, they feared, awaited further incarcerated and near starvation, if not worse. Their dejection was felt most keenly by 24-year-old Sergeant Bob Lillington of the Hampshire Regiment. Renounced by his unit for marrying a Russian woman, Ludmilla Martinova, on August 31, 1919, in Omsk, he had given up his place in his battalion’s return home and did not know what was happening to his young wife.

Vining did his best to maintain morale, but this became more difficult when they were taken to Moscow. The sense of gloom deepened as they retraced their journey along the Trans-Siberian Railway. At Omsk, there was a further delay while the final British contingent in South Russia, under command of Brigadier Jocelyn Percy, was evacuated by the Royal Navy. The prisoners’ conditions were made worse when Commissar Podlovsky refused to recognise the Hague convention and withheld their ration cards. They had to sell clothing in the market to raise money for food.

It was on one of these outings that an incident happened that was to have a profound effect on their time in Russia. As the men assembled one morning, a small Siberian puppy crossed the railway line ahead of them. Unfortunately, a locomotive was passing, and the little mongrel became caught in its wheels. Captain ‘Bertie’ Prickett ran over and rescued the injured dog, whose hind leg was hanging by a flap of skin and whose tail was reduced to a stump. The adept officer completed the amputation and tightly bound the two wounds with bandages. All the others gathered around and made a fuss of the fluffy hound, feeding him a few morsels from their thin larder. They decided to adopt their diminutive new companion and named him Teddy. He rapidly learned to scamper around on three legs, dissipating melancholy moods by his cheerfulness and unbounded faithfulness. Any of the group who became too self-absorbed was soon shaken out of his gloom when Teddy came to play.

While the prisoners were on their way to Moscow, Winston Churchill took up their cause in his fight against the prime minister. After Lloyd George met the Soviet Envoy, Leonid Krassin, to discuss reopening trade with Russia, Churchill circulated a memorandum on June 11, demanding that the return of the missing prisoners of war, alive and well, must be made “the sine qua non of further negotiations”. Churchill had huge cross-party support in Parliament, with members appalled that the Government had lost track of the group.

“Vining’s courage in the face of the Cheka was extraordinary. He knew they had murdered untold masses during the repression [but] steadfastly resisted their interrogation”

Threat of Execution

When they finally arrived in Moscow, the British soldiers were taken to the infamous Lubjanka jail, where Francis McCullagh had been tortured the previous April. Vining’s courage in the face of the Cheka (secret police) was extraordinary. He knew they had murdered untold masses during the repression, „ „ which began in 1918, but he steadfastly resisted their interrogation. When at last the men were herded into a small cell, he did what the Russians least expected, pulling out a banjo and leading a patriotic singsong to lift morale.

The next day, they were moved to Ivanovsky jail, where there were 457 prisoners – 45 of whom were women – and where conditions were described as “verminous” in a British report. The soldiers were held in two cramped, liceinfested cells and put on half rations because they refused to work. The staple was dried herring, which reminded them of shrivelled shoe leather, only it smelled worse. Three-quarters of a pound of bread was issued in the morning, some unpalatable boiled grain arrived at midday and a watery “grey eyes” soup was the sum of the evening menu.

Complaints about conditions were met with disdain. At night, there were frequent unannounced searches, during which many of their belongings were stolen. There was also the threat of summary execution. The Cheka had developed many cruel and creative ways to torture and execute its victims, but in order to spare a bloody clean-up, they favoured nackenschuss. Prisoners were taken from their cells, told to descend some steps, and shot in the nape of the neck for minimal bloodletting. It was, at least, a quick death.

Two stray British servicemen joined the group in their cells. Captain Dwyer Neville of the RAF had contracted typhus at Tomsk and had been left in hospital when the other British officers were released in April. He arrived in August and, the following month, 23-year-old Pte Lionel Grant of the Gloucestershire Regiment, who had been captured at Baku, was also put under Vining’s care.

“The loyal hound had helped them through their ordeal, and they did not want to abandon him to be eaten or to die alone in the snow. Vining resolved to smuggle him through…”

After another tempestuous interview with the workers’ committee, the prisoners were moved to a harsher gaol near the Kremlin. To occupy themselves, Sergeant Joe Rooney, an accomplished musician, wrote a play which the British soldiers performed in a makeshift theatre. Unfortunately, Horrocks succumbed to jaundice and was taken to hospital. Whilst he was away, they heard British officials were in Moscow, attending the Second World Congress of the Communist International, and that Mrs Clara Sheridan was sculpting clay busts of the Soviet leaders. However, none of these disciples bothered to visit the British prisoners.

Offers of Marriage

In London, Churchill and the foreign secretary, Lord Curzon, continued to agitate for their return. Eventually, a protracted prisoner exchange was agreed between the two governments and the British soldiers were sent to Petrograd before their final release. In the former capital, they were looked after in the British Colony Hospital by the careworn matron Violet Froom, who acted as “ambassador, parson and everything combined”.

In their final week, all the men received offers of marriage from English women married to Russians, who were desperate to get their daughters out of the country. Finally, they were taken to the Finnish frontier. On the way, they were told that no dogs were allowed to cross the border due to the risk of rabies and there was a “great stew” what to do with Teddy. The loyal hound had helped them through their ordeal, and they did not want to abandon him to be eaten or to die alone in the snow. Vining resolved to smuggle him through and emptied a kit bag into which the reluctant Teddy was carefully hidden, much to the pup’s annoyance. When they crossed the footbridge over the river that marked the frontier, he started to complain, so the others closed ranks and boisterously sang It’s A Long Way To Tipperary at the top of their voices to drown the fretful whelps of their canine companion.

Walking past the Suomi soldiers in their grey uniforms, they still had to pass through the customs house in which their bags were checked, apparently for Bolshevik propaganda. While some of the party created noise to distract officials, Teddy was skilfully manoeuvred around the desk and placed with the checked baggage. With a huge sigh of relief, the men left the crossing point and released the thankful puppy, whose stumpy tail went around in circles as he gave everyone a good licking.

Horrocks shook Vining by the hand and thanked him for what he had done. He later wrote about his commander: “On his shoulders had rested the ultimate responsibility and now he had brought the whole party safely out of the darkness of Bolshevik Russia into the free world again”. He also attributed his experiences in Russia as excellent preparation for senior command in war: “I had learned to live rough and depend on nobody but myself and, having experienced the seamy side of life to the full, I was unlikely to be taken by surprise, however unexpected the crisis might be”.

Scattered Across the World

After spending time in quarantine and being interviewed by MI6, Vining’s party was picked up by the Royal Navy and returned to England via Denmark. When they arrived at Harwich, the Army tried to take them on to Colchester, but they slipped the net and caught the first train to Liverpool Street, arriving in London at 12.30pm on November 22, 1920.

Their return was recorded by The Times under the heading ‘From A Russian Gaol; Britons Who Served With Kolchak; Horrors of the Omsk Retreat’. Vining was not impressed when he saw the article was run next to an instalment of Clara Sheridan’s diary. What was worse was the fact that the government suppressed further coverage as they reopened trade with Soviet Russia.

All the soldiers acknowledged the part Leonard Vining played as their inspirational leader for more than a year. It remains extraordinary that this was not recognised with an appropriate award and that their story was forgotten for 100 years.

Within a month, the group had scattered all over the world – to Argentina, Australia, Canada, India, Ireland and the United States. Most of them were discharged from the army within days, but Horrocks and Hayes went on to become distinguished generals, in the next war rising to command XXX Corps and 3rd Infantry Division respectively, with Horrocks ending up heading the British Army of the Rhine and Hayes the British Troops in China. Major Vining returned to India and received the MBE in 1943. Emerson, the American, returned home and was able to marry his sweetheart.

Before the group separated, they shared a farewell dinner in the Cafe Royal. Tears of joy were shed that, despite cold, hunger, sickness and horrific incarceration, somehow they had all survived the incredible ordeal. Those who attended signed the back of a photograph which was taken on HMS Delhi with the ever-faithful Teddy in pride of place.

The author has had tremendous help from some of the relations of the characters in this article and would be delighted to hear from anyone whose forebears were in Siberia in 1919."

(End of article)

 

What an amazing story!  Thank you for taking the trouble to post it Maureen.  I have in the past read brief details of Horrocks’s earlier experiences in Russia, but nothing about this skin-of-the-teeth escape.  Given the focus on Ukraine just now, it made me think what a fantastic Netflix type series this might make, but so much of the experience seems dreadful and depressing that I doubt it would meet the requirements of entertainment if the the harrowing truth was faithfully observed.  I wonder what happened to Teddy and I do hope that Sgt Lillington and his wife eventually had a genuinely happy life together after such trials and tribulations.  It seems typical that Major Vining was treated so despicably, presumably because the government wanted the story to be subdued in order to not harm trade relations.

Edited 24 July , 2023 by FROGSMILE

[MaureenE]

Now available online the book mentioned by me above Held by the Bolsheviks: The Diary of a British Officer in Russia, 1919-1920  by L.E. Vining (Leonard Edward) 1924

https://archive.org/details/heldbybolsheviks 

Maureen

Edited 29 October , 2023 by MaureenE

[corisande]

Thanks Maureen,

And I see at the bottom of that page , that Google have digitized a veritable cornucopia of books of this ilk