The Rift

by H Schmidt

  Accept it, he wanted to say to Surelius, but saw no point in that either.

  ---

  Billy had requested paper and pen to write. Friederich had approved the request. He had asked that all requests made by the prisoner be presented to him. Agitated after he had left Willie, he had after a time come to accept his good fortune. Mother would be pleased that he was alive and well. She would be pleased that he still looked like her. His sister, Erika and the children, all would be excited to know that he had seen Willie. He would be sending a messenger east in the morning. He would give him a letter for the family. He imagined that Billy would write the Housmans.

  Billy had spent the morning writing letters to his mother and father in his mind, discarding each one. It made him think about how he felt. They had always taught him to do what was right. It was easier if you knew what that was. Why had they not told him? Because they were afraid they would lose him. Could you ever justify what they did as the right thing to do? No, not if there was a chance that his real, he felt the pain when he used the word, parents were alive and looking for him. He tried to imagine the pain their selfish action had caused, yet, when he thought how much they loved him, he found it hard to condemn them. He could blame them. He could not condemn them.

  The captain had offered the two men horses to ride to the village. Both said they would prefer a carriage. He watched the look on the face of the German when he pointed to the supply wagon they had used for the American lieutenant. Soldiers are contented with such small pleasures, he thought, as he watched the grimaces of the two men as they climbed into the wagon and looked for a place to sit. Why did these two men offend him so? He wondered if it wasn’t because they were trespassers who had invited themselves onto his military preserve.

  By the time the wagon arrived in the village, Friederich was there. He knew who these men were, what they were. Such men were selected because the pain of others had no effect on them or, they pleasured in it. He did not know Surelius, but he knew of the interrogation unit of the Berlin police. War often places the strong against the weak, where one side has little chance against the other. But it is not always so, and a soldier always faces risks. These men dealt with defenseless victims who were at their mercy, who could not retaliate. They were after Willie. What had his little brother gotten himself into? Why were both the Russian and German governments after him?

  ---

  Mikhail Abramovich Bogrov was uneasy. Such interrogations require the right kinds of settings, where lighting and electric power can be used. Here, he felt like a medieval jailer, able to use only the most rudimentary tools. No matter, they would make do. He worried about the colonel.

  The colonel waited while the men jumped from the back of the wagon. Courtesy dictated that he present himself to his guests. As he stopped before them, he touched the bill of his cap.

  “I am Colonel von Mecklenburg. The prisoner is inside. We will be able to see him in a moment. Before we talk to the prisoner, I need to know why he was detained.”

  Bogrov spoke quickly. “I am afraid we are not at liberty to talk about your prisoner, Colonel.”

  “And your name, sir?” Bogrov felt the alarm go off. Something is wrong.

  “I am Captain Bogrov, sent here under the authority of the Council of People’s Commissars. We have evidence that Lieutenant William Housman has been actively seeking to overthrow the Russian government.”

  “And you are Inspector Surelius formerly of the Berlin Police and now with the German Embassy.”

  Friederich turned to face Bogrov. “Under the Geneva Convention of 1907, Comrade Bogrov, the German government may only require that an enemy soldier provide his name, rank, and serial number, and his date of birth. Since the Russian government is not at war with the United States, you have no right to question him about anything while he is our prisoner. Now that he is our prisoner, I have no authority to release him, certainly none to turn him over to you. I have to assume that if you had some authority to take him into Russian custody, you would have done so already, since he has been in your country for over a year.”

  Surelius and Bogrov could not miss the smug grins on the faces of the captain and lieutenant. Most officers were aware of the Bolshevik agitation at home and were aware of their colonel’s sentiments. Both disliked the methods of the German police. They did not know the American lieutenant, but did not want the two thugs in front of them to get their hands on him.

  Bogrov cursed under his breath. He should have known that this would not work. Dzershinskii had sent him north to extract a written confession from the American which could be used by Trotsky and Lenin in dealing with the Americans. He had expected that von Mecklenburg hated the Bolsheviks. But something told him there was more. The colonel had decided to protect the American. He needed to find out why.

  Surelius stood speechless. How could this arrogant colonel defy the German government? Surely, when he received the telegram from the German Embassy, he must have understood that the German government had an interest in getting information from the American. He, too, noticed how protective the colonel seemed of the American officer. When he returned to Moscow, he would make inquiries.

  Friederich was relieved that things were working out as he had hoped. He did not have to confront any direct orders from his superiors to cooperate with the inquisitors, nor was he going to lose contact with Willie for a while. Moments were always precious in war. He looked at the two men, who had moved off for a private conversation. He had decided that Surelius may be able to obtain an order from the embassy in Moscow. He would counter by saying the insecure nature of cable traffic makes it possible to comply only with orders sent through army channels.

  It was Surelius who was deputized to talk to Friederich. “Your failure to cooperate with the German Embassy will be reported to your superiors, Colonel. We know that in any military operation, there is considerable latitude in dealing with prisoners. You would only have to secure this area and leave the rest to us. We are trained in such things.”

  “You mean torturing defenseless people, Inspector. That is what you are trained for, nicht wahr? If the German government orders me to release the prisoner, I will do that. But I will not turn him over to you. Picking him up again will be entirely the responsibility of the Bolsheviks. They can explain their actions to the American government.”

  Bogrov now spoke. “I am afraid we made an unnecessary trip, Colonel. We would like the courtesy of verifying that the prisoner is here. Perhaps you will allow Inspector Surelius to do that.”

  “Captain, will you escort the Inspector?” Friederich took the captain aside. “If he tries to harm the prisoner, shoot him.”

  ---

  With the Brest-Litovsk Treaty, the German Army had agreed to pull all of its forces back. The battalion was waiting for the word to move. The news from the western front had lifted Friederich’s spirits. Perhaps there was still hope for victory. With the new relations with the Ukraine, the likelihood that in a year’s time, food and raw materials would be in ample supply, there was reason to hope. The feeling of hope came for another reason. The northern winter had ended and the vibrant greens of spring were everywhere.

  The news brought concerns among the villages near the Murmansk rail line. For the villagers, the battalion brought peace from the marauding bands of deserters who had terrorized them. After the execution of the band in the village of Rymka, all of the surrounding villages watched the deserters leave the area, afraid that they would be next. Instead of enemies, the villagers came to look upon the German soldiers as protectors. After living under the tyranny of the czar, then that of the bandits who roamed the countryside, they had welcomed the German soldiers. Now they were leaving.

  Billy stood beside his brother on a small hill overlooking the village. They could see the men gathered to rebuild a house that had burned during the winter.

  “The Russians have a tradition of helping each other in the villages.”

  Friederich nodd
ed. “In many ways, they seem backward. In others, Europe could learn from them.”

  Billy had been allowed to roam freely after the two men had left for Petrograd two days ago. He had simply promised not to try to escape and Friederich had accepted his word. As they stood quietly watching the scene in front of them, they could hear the song birds in the trees behind them. Friederich was thinking of his father. He had always been puzzled why their father had not sent the message that Willie was alive, but carried it to his death. Mother had always accepted the idea that he wanted to surprise everyone with the news. But when you lose a son to another family, is it like a death in the family? Did he think it best to keep the news to himself, since the pain might be greater if they discovered the painful separation?

  He looked at his brother and thought of Tomas. He would soon be home. Then the separation would begin again. Mother would never see Willie, nor would Maria or the children. He reached in his pocket and brought out another photograph he had taken from his baggage this morning.

  “This is my family, Billy.” How odd they had called him William. Still it felt strange to call him Billy. He wanted to say Willie but knew it would not be right. “This was taken at Marburg two years ago.” When things were better, he thought. He pulled out the first photo he had shown him. “Do you see a resemblance in the two photos?”

  Billy smiled. “Tomas looks like me.” The older brother stood at Billy’s shoulder, savoring the closeness, and pointed to each one in the family. “He looks like neither Erika nor me. He favors his grandmother, like you.”

  They could see Captain Marx approaching, a smile on his face as he watched the two men. Captain Marx knew. The whole battalion knew. As soon as the two men had left, Friederich has called his commanders together. He had told them the story of Willie, of the family’s search for him, and the shock of the telegram. Within an hour, the entire battalion was immersed in the tale that began in Africa and ended here in Russia. To many of the Prussian peasants who were members of the battalion, it was like the birth of a child in their village. The effect of the story was to so unsettle the battalion that Friederich had found it necessary to call for an inspection, quickly returning the soldiers to the reality of their situation. Still, it was hard to miss the looks of the men as the two wandered through camp.

  “I have written a letter to my parents, Friederich. It was a difficult letter, as you said it would be. I am not sure what Mister Fleming told them about me, but there is a good chance they did not know the particulars at that time. Simply a boy, a child they wanted and could not have. Most likely it was weakness, not evil, that caused them to ignore asking Belgian officials to make inquiries. Very likely, as you know, they would have found that I was your kidnapped brother, and I would be Wilhelm von Mecklenburg today.”

  Friederich had decided it was best not to dwell on the behavior of Willie’s American parents. He would work hard to bring them closer, whatever his brother’s last name. He had said as much to his family at Marburg.

  Captain Marx saluted smartly as he reached the two men. “Good morning, Billy.” He turned to his commander. “A telegram arrived this morning. We are to proceed west immediately.”

  “Thank you, Captain. We still have a shipment of rifles we captured before the treaty, do we not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We will be unable to take all the arms with us. Pick a squad of volunteers to train the villagers to use the rifles. We cannot take all of them with us. As soon as we leave, there may be trouble. Let the village council decide who should receive training in their use.”

  “The Soviet government may see this as interference, Colonel.”

  “We are concerned about bandits and counterrevolutionaries, Captain. The people are safe with the Bolsheviks, isn’t that correct?”

  “If the Bolsheviks decide they have sided with the counterrevolutionaries, they may kill all the men in the village.”

  “Better to die like men than sheep, Captain. Still, you may be right. Sukorov can talk to the council. We will let them decide.”

  “Colonel, may I speak to you in private.” Friederich saw the look of concern on the face of his captain. When they had walked some distance, Captain Marx spoke. “They want us to send your brother to Moscow. A train will be departing from Murmansk tomorrow morning. You are to put Billy on that train, together with a squad of soldiers. They are to accompany him to the embassy in Moscow.” “Captain, I have decided what I shall do. Prepare the battalion to move in the morning. Tell Doctor Sukorov I will be down shortly.”

  “Colonel, you know I will support whatever decision you make in this matter.” “I know that, Captain. But I have decided that I will not share my decision with anyone. This is a matter for which I am personally responsible. I do not want any accomplices.”

  Friederich had decided he would let the captain handle the preparations. There was nothing he would not trust him to do. He knew it would be done well. The captain was from a wealthy burgher family in Danzig. He knew his sympathies were with the socialist movement. He had noticed that he and Sukorov would go for walks together, in animated discussion, undoubtedly about the great new world that was coming. Friederich had learned that you did not judge men on their political beliefs but on their character. He was enough of a realist to know that someday their differences could drive them apart, but here, he trusted him. War, he knew, was a very personal thing.

  “Do you remember Kibo, Billy?”

  Today, he would separate himself from the war and be with his brother. There was little time now. They started down the hill toward the village.

  Max Surelius had stopped at the next station after departing the colonel’s battalion. His telegram was to be forwarded to the German Embassy. The telegram asked only one question: “Please ascertain possible connection Colonel Friederich von Mecklenburg and American Lieutenant William Housman.” It had taken him two days to reach the new German Embassy in Moscow. He knew the German ambassador would be furious at what had happened. He had suffered through the tirade against the German colonel, enduring the inexplicable behavior of the ambassador which somehow blamed Surelius for what had happened. He had seen this kind of behavior before.

  When he was dismissed, he returned to his small office. There, on his desk, was a single page report placed neatly in a folder marked Confidential. He was at first incredulous, then reassured. His dislike for the colonel had turned to hatred after his dismissal from the battalion camp. Now, he would get even.

  ---

  The repression in Russia that followed the assassination of Russia’s most enlightened czar almost forty years before had extended to the universities until the turn of the century. But pressures by the Russian intelligentsia had caused the Imperial government to remove the police from the campuses of the great universities while continuing repression in the rest of Russia. The result was the gathering of radicals on the campuses, which became hotbeds of the dissent which had swept Russia and led to the 1905 revolution. One of the remarkable changes in the universities was the presence of older students, men in their late twenties and thirties, who somehow managed to hang on to their government stipends while seeking to undermine the same government.

  In this setting, St. Petersburg University was a second home for Fedor Riezler. He was there as a result of a conscious policy by the czar’s government to create a class of bureaucrats, corporate executives and entrepreneurs, from among the most talented sons of Jews, priests, low-level government officials, junior military officers, and peasants. Its unanticipated side effect was the creation of the spawning grounds for those who would lead the Russian Revolution--that students would not serve the Russian nobility, but destroy it.

  Riezler had to be careful. He knew that the Cheka were now looking for him everywhere. It was during one of his late-night visits to the university that one of the students who helped him organize demonstrations before the October Revolution had told him of a student he knew who was working for someone at the
American Embassy. After working through several other contacts, he was able to find out the young man’s name, Nicolai Alexandreivich Vasiliev.

  ---

  The dossier on Dzershinskii’s desk was thick. In it was a full history in the young life of William Housman, lieutenant, United States Army. For the Cheka, the need to bring the lieutenant in, to subject him to interrogation, had become the highest priority. The American government, it had been discovered, was engaged in a duplicitous policy toward the new Soviet government. Professing neutrality, even sympathy with the Russian Revolution, there was evidence that it had actively sought to keep the Bolsheviks from taking power, and continued to find ways to undermine the new Soviet government.

  The infiltration of the unions in America by former Russian radicals, and the generous assistance to United States congressmen by persons sympathetic with the revolution had produced a growing number of friends in the Congress. Such influence had caused what some critics in America called a soft policy toward the Bolsheviks, despite their professed intention of undermining American institutions. But beneath this profession of sympathy was what the Bolsheviks suspected was the real policy, the one which America did not want to make public. That policy was to nip Bolshevism where it was beginning to bud, before it became a cancer on the rest of the world. The lieutenant was an agent for that policy.

  The importance of interrogating the lieutenant was based on the confidence Dzershinskii had in the Bolshevik methods of torture and their success in extricating confessions. A confession by Lieutenant William Housman could cow the American government into altering its policies, if properly handled. Changing public opinion is what the Bolsheviks did best.

  They wanted Billy for another reason. They knew he was the conduit for money and instructions to important members of the Volunteer Army, which was forming to challenge the Soviet government. They knew that he had the names in his head of agents in the Soviet government who were helping the Volunteer Army. They would get this from him, as well.