by Simon Boxall
'What the fuck do you mean by stopping my express train? I'm already a day and a half late as it is,' the driver said.
Anastas Mikoyan walked towards him waving a piece of paper in his hand.
'Look at this,' he said.
The driver looked at the paper thoughtfully, and then back to him, and then down at the paper again.
'It might help if you turn it up the right way,' he said.
'I can't read,' the driver said.
So Anastas Mikoyan calmly explained what he wanted the driver to do. Then he signalled to a group of guards to accompany him onto the train.
The train was packed solid; people were standing in the aisles. He found the guard and the guard led him to the two Germans. Strangely, wherever he went a silence descended. Eyes watched in silence as Sergo Ordzhonikidze and his party walked through the train. Eventually he found the two eminent surgeons.
'Welcome to Soviet Russia,' he said. Even Anastas Mikoyan, thinking to himself, had to agree that the greeting sounded rather hollow.
The two Germans stared back. To them it was just another setback amongst the many they had already experienced.
'You haven't come all this way just to tell us that,' Schroder indignantly replied.
'You're absolutely right I have not,' the Armenian paused. 'I'm afraid that you, both as privileged guests of 'Bolshevik' government and, you must remember, your safety is of paramount importance ... you two must come with us.'
Gottschalk groaned, 'What do you mean safety?'
Mikoyan cleared his throat, 'We have had reports that 'White' forces are operating in this area and my instructions are for your safe arrival in Moscow. If you were to stay on this train we cannot guarantee your safe conduct.'
'Rubbish! Why don't you put some soldiers on the train? Come on that's common sense! How else, at this time of year, are you going to get us to Moscow,' Schroder said.
'Well I'm not supposed to tell you this, we have been reliably informed that the track near Vyasma has been ripped up and 'they' are waiting to ambush this train. So it makes good sense that we have come to find you, take you off the train and find some alternative means of getting you safely to Moscow!'
'The 'they', that you refer to! We passed them before we got to Minsk!'
'As I say my orders are that you both come with me. Look, they have their agents; they also know when the train should be arriving. So they will be looking for it, the more time we spend arguing, the more time they have to find the train. So, it's up to you gentlemen.'
Reluctantly the two Germans got their belongings and followed 'The Bolshevik' out of the train. Mikoyan led the two men into the forest. Schroder and Gottschalk followed, in the distance they could hear the train pulling away. The two men looked at each other, but said nothing. After walking for twenty minutes, the party found themselves in a clearing. There a car was waiting for them. Their luggage was loaded into the boot, they got in and the car set off. Approximately an hour later they arrived at a fortified Dacha. Mikoyan informed the guests of the 'Soviet Republic' that they would be staying here until it was safe to go on to Moscow.
Once inside the Dacha, Schroder and Gottschalk took the opportunity to question their captor. How long were they going to be staying here for? The Armenian replied that he did not think that it would be that long; but he reminded them that there was a 'Civil War' going on and things, especially around here, were pretty fluid and tended to change on a day by day basis. Lines were constantly drawn and redrawn.
The Germans reminded him why they were here and who they were supposed to be operating on. The Armenian replied that, with the available resources, everything was being done that could be done to get them to Moscow. Now he had to leave to oversee their travelling arrangements, but he would be returning soon.
Anastas Mikoyan did return, in fact he returned on many occasions, but the story was always the same. The gist of it was, that it was the belief of the 'Supreme Soviet', and acting on information received, that 'White' insurgents in collusion with 'Foreign' agencies had got wind of the Germans visit. They also knew why they were here and they had put every resource at their disposal to track down and kill the two surgeons. The same source that had supplied the information had said that their every endeavour was to be made, and this was apparently Admiral Kolchak's very words, 'to cut the head's off the German snakes!'
Days turned into a week and one week turned into two weeks. Mikoyan's story was always the same, 'As we speak, death squads are combing the forest, they have one purpose and that is to kill you.'
Days in the Dacha were, pretty much, always the same. Breakfast was served at seven o'clock and then, if the weather was clement, they were allowed to walk around the yard; lunch at midday, and then an evening meal at six. The food consisted of soup served with black bread and some days if they were lucky, meat in the shape of venison would be served. Whatever they did and wherever they went the surgeons were always under the watchful eye of someone. Whether it was Mikoyan, the cook or the guards.
The Germans had tried direct confrontation with their captor but this always produced the same mechanical answer, 'Everything possible, is being done to try to get you safely to Moscow. But the road is closed, the town has changed hands again and bandits and other class criminals are operating in this area. If we were to let you go we could not guarantee your safety.'
Still they waited. Then Mikoyan returned one day and told them were going to be taken back to the railway line. From there they would catch a train to Moscow. The two doctors looked at each other. Each could read the others mind.
There had been delay after delay; this was not really surprising in the aftermath of the Kaplan assassination attempt. The Kremlin was gripped in fear and paranoia. Eventually last minute arrangements regarding Lenin's operation were worked out, first between the 'Central Committee' and then, later, between Stalin and 'The Doctor' Sergo Ordzhonikidze.
Between the pair of them the fine minutiae of the operation was worked out. As they had previously decided Sergo was, because of his medical experience as a doctor, going to oversee the operation. Mikoyan would be instructed to take care of the Chinese bodyguard. The operation itself would be conducted, here, inside the Kremlin. Due to its very nature there was going to be a complete 'Security Blackout', only those directly involved knew, and that was only on a need to know basis. The 'Georgian Doctor' and 'The Boss', once other details surrounding the operation had been worked out, waited for Mikoyan to get back from the forest. Then, and only then, could the plan swing into action. In the meantime Sergo Ordzhonikidze went off to the 'Funk Hole' to pick up the two German impostors.
Astonishingly for them, the two 'Layabouts' were surprisingly sober. A ludicrous thought began to take shape in Sergo Ordzhonikidze's mind. It occurred to him that Krupin and Mazhulin were actually taking things seriously. When he arrived the two were dressed in their best suits. If you had not known, you would have thought them to be professionals of one thing or another. Maybe doctors or lawyers! He plied them with vodka, discreetly hidden in bottles of surgical spirit. What a waste, the pair joked! Sergo, thinking to himself thought they would, probably, have drunk that as well.
Privately, Serge Ordzhonikidze was amused that these two drunken incompetents were going to operate on Lenin. It was no secret that Vladimir Iilyvich did not like drunkenness in any shape or form. The 'Hero of The Revolution' felt, and quite rightly so, that alcohol abuse was the curse that blighted the Russian peoples.
Ordzhonikidze handed over the necessary paperwork, then briefed the pair and then they headed out to a waiting car. On arrival at the Kremlin, they were ushered through checkpoint after checkpoint until they finally arrived at the medical wing. The wing itself was an old dormitory, which had received a good scrubbing down and a new coat of paint. The three of them waited, Sergo waited discretely by the window. Whilst they waited one of his aides made sure that the two wards were frequently plied with vodka. After an hour Sergo Ordzhonikidze hear
d a commotion over on the far side of the yard. A door opened and then flanked by bodyguards, a trolley appeared. On the trolley he could just make out Lenin's face. The rest of the body was hidden under a white cloth. A nurse was holding a drip and she was accompanied by the rest of the party. Behind them Ordzhonikidze could see his boss and mentor bringing up the rear.
Once inside the building, the guards formed a protective ring inside and out of the building. No one could leave or enter. That was of no consequence to Sergo Ordzhonikidze, everything was in place and the two, 'Bogus', Germans were, for the moment, well out of the way.
It also amused him that Lenin's personal bodyguard had been removed earlier in the day. 'The Boss' had simply given the Chinese bodyguards the day off. They were all too keen to accept it, none of them could remember the last time such an opportunity had presented itself; not only that, it was tactfully implied that if the day was not taken, the opportunity to have a day off might not materialise again in the foreseeable future. So it was a case of take it or leave it 'Boys'. Also, and this was completely off the record, it was stated that they could spend the day in the Prokrovhka district gambling amongst themselves. When one or two zealots queried this Stalin winked and said that the Soviet in that part of town had been instructed, on his orders, to close a blind eye. Without fuss, and all in agreement, they took the day off.
Once inside the building the plan quickly sped into action. As arranged the nurse had given Lenin a mild sedative. This had put him out. Mazhulin then administered an anaesthetic. Whilst this was taking effect, Krupin and the nurse arranged the tools and other implements they would need for the operation.
Satisfied that Vladimir Iilyvich was out cold, the three of them turned him over onto his side. Krupin made an incision in the back of the neck and started ferreting around for the bullet. Stalin was now standing by his side. Both of them looked on intently.
'I thought you said that these two were a pair of incompetents?' Stalin said.
Sergo Ordzhonikidze had to agree that they seemed to be doing quite a professional job. However that illusion was shattered a moment or two later when, after a particularly vicious wrench from Krupin, Vladimir Illyvich suddenly sat bolt upright and screamed. In that frozen moment, Lenin seemed to look around and take stock of everything around him. Instantaneously Mazhulin turned around and belted the 'Soviet Leader' in the face. This appeared to knock him out cold. Stalin and Ordzhonikidze looked at each other and grinned. The rest of the operation was uneventful. Towards the end Sergo Ordzhonikidze donned a gown and then went to inspect the pair's handiwork. Satisfied that they had already exacerbated an already serious injury, he instructed them to wrap it up, so they could send the Russian leader back to his apartment to recuperate. Hopefully he would not recover.
Chapter Fourteen
The two Germans had packed their bags and were waiting in the front room of the Dacha. Mikoyan then instructed them to follow him outside. Two cars were waiting, the doctors were told to get inside. Mikoyan then returned to the porch and could be seen giving instructions to the guards. He then returned to the car and they set off through the forest.
Apart from the sound of the car engines the journey was conducted in silence. They drove off and, after a journey of forty minutes, they arrived at a clearing. Here they were instructed to follow their hosts through the conifer forest. Snow still hung on the branches of the surrounding trees. The whole place was silent. There were no sounds of bird or beast alike; the only sounds were made by the party as they trudged off through the forest. After about half an hour, they emerged again onto the railway line. There they waited in the stillness.
The single railway line stretched off into the distance. It cut a straight line in both directions. They stood and waited. Mikoyan checked his watch and looked off into the distance.
Faintly the whistle of an approaching train could be heard. But, whereas the first time there had been a 'Red Guard' standing on the track ready to flag it down, this time there was no guard to wave a lantern. The Germans picked up on this but said nothing.
As the train approached Mikoyan faced his wards and said. 'Comrades here`s the Moscow express. The area has been cleared of 'Bourgeois' vermin. It is now safe for you, our esteemed guests, to get on with your journey.'
'And, believe me, it is not too soon. Don't think you have heard the last of this,' Schroder snorted. Gottschalk nodded in agreement.
The train slowly screeched to a halt. Once it had stopped Mikoyan signalled to the guards to pick up the doctors suitcases and they all climbed aboard the train.
Once onboard they walked down the train. Carriages were packed with old men women and children. The two doctors noticed that there were no, young or middle aged men aboard. But this was the time of Trotsky's war communism, men of fighting age had been conscripted, usually at gunpoint, into 'Red' and 'White' armies; or, if they had had enough of fighting in the 'Great War', they had quietly simply, disappeared into the depths of the forest where no one would find them.
Mikoyan turned an elderly couple out of their seat, the rest of the carriages occupants watched, or pretended not to, in silence.
'Comrades, this is where I leave you,' he clicked his heels and said, 'have a safe journey!' With that he was gone.
The two doctors uneasily sat down. They were only too aware of the fact that all the eyes of the carriage were fixed upon them. The train began to pull away, the light had begun to fade and within half an hour the outside world was once again shrouded in darkness. The train rumbled on into the night.
The curiosity of the carriages occupants soon abated. The sound of talking, nervous at first, soon returned. Laughter was heard, a baby cried whilst its mother tried to quieten it down. Everywhere the doctors looked they could see the effects of malnourishment and civil war.
'Do you know what Schroder. When we have completed what we have come here to do, and I might have said this before, I am never coming to this god-forsaken land again.'
Hear, hear Herr Gottschalk,' the other said.
Under the belief that the train was speeding towards Moscow, the two doctors were completely unaware of the fact that the train was actually heading off in the other direction. Ignorant of this fact the two of them fell asleep.
Gottschalk was the first to awake. He had completely lost track of time and he shook Schroder violently. The train was slowing down.
'What's happening,' Schroder said.
The train halted and they could hear voices coming from the direction of the locomotive. Gottschalk pulled down the window; he leant out and looked up ahead. There was a tree lying across the line. The driver and the engineer were down on the track and were busy remonstrating with a group of men on the track. He pulled the window back up.
'Well they`re not 'Bolshie's',' he said. Two shots suddenly rang out. Alarmed the two doctors looked at themselves and then at everyone else. You could feel the wave of terror sweep through the carriage.
A minute before the track had been empty, now it teamed with armed men, but they were not 'Bolsheviks', so they both assumed that they had to be, 'White' regulars.
Then it started - the gunshots. They would start and stop. Closer and closer they came. Then it stopped.
A tall distinguished looking man came up to the two doctors and said, 'Come with me.'
Grudgingly the two men grabbed their holdalls and followed the man. Once on the track, the shooting started again. The man headed off into the forest. Armed militia lined the path. The men could no longer hear the shooting; they were not to witness, the 'Cold Blooded' murder already going on onboard the train. Fully resigned to the fact that death was only around the corner and that they only had minutes left to live; both men trudged determinedly on into the darkness. They came to an open space, a small clearing. Car headlights lighted it up. Armed men stood around the perimeter. In the centre was a large hole. The doctors rightly judged it was to be their grave.
Two shots rang out into the night and then the
re was silence. The corpses were stripped and all identification was removed. The orderly set up his trestle table and set to work removing heads, hands and feet. The torsos were flung in the grave, and many miles away, the pieces of Gottschalk and Schroder would be left for the wolves.
A 'White' officer emerged into the clearing. He issued instructions to those present and then he walked down the path towards the train.
Back on the train 'White' guards prodded the corpses with their bayonets. They had had strict instructions that no one was to be left alive.
By the time the officer neared the train he could see the flash of the camera. The photographer was doing as requested. Soon the world would know about this massacre of women, children and the old.
The train was sent on its way and silence returned to the forest. Thirty minutes later the only witnesses left would be the giant conifers and maples. Nothing but silence ...
A mile away deep under the forests canopy, the 'White' soldiers gathered around their leader. In light of recent events, if anyone witnessed what was about to happen next, maybe, and only maybe, they might not have been wholly surprised.
The officer clicked his fingers and the detachment of 'White' guards stripped off their uniforms to reveal their 'Red' army strip underneath. Once the old uniforms had been collected up, their leader signalled for them to leave the scene of the crime.
As far as he, Anastas Mikoyan, was concerned it was a job well done. 'The Boss', would be, well pleased, or so he thought.
'You did what? Then you misunderstood me, my friend. Is it not bad enough that this country, or what is left of it, as I am speaking to you, is fighting for its very survival? In the north we have the English and the Americans, in the south we have the English and the French, and in the east we have the Japanese. You have to go and make the mistake of gargantuan proportions. Do we want the German government to side with our enemies? Do we? Get out of my sight before I end up doing something that I might, later, regret! Get out!'