Ace of Spies

by Andrew Cook

  By the time of his second dispatch it was noted that ‘the prevailing atmosphere is not a healthy one, neither for the political stability of the Kuban territory nor for the Volunteer Army which is still greatly dependent upon the territory’s resources and upon its support in men’.38 On 5 January he met with Gen. Poole, who had recently returned from the battle front, and noted that ‘our ideas are practically in agreement’.39

  Those ideas formed the nucleus of his next despatch, which advised that:

  … the military situation of the Volunteer Army is extremely serious, the question of its equipments, provisioning, armaments and of its technical means cannot be characterised otherwise than appalling (I am borrowing this definition from a conversation with Gen. Poole); the question of the urgency of Allied assistance becomes therefore more important than the question of its extent.40

  It also mentions arms to carry on the fight, ‘Whippet tanks, and bombing planes’, as well as clothing.41 Reilly estimated that the Red Army would be quite a formidable force by the spring of 1919 with more than a million men in the field. He expressed the view, however, that the task of overcoming them would be ‘a comparatively easy one’. He believed that ‘Bolshevik armies will not stand up to regular troops’, and that this would be even more the case ‘if the latter are technically equipped’, and stated that he thought that ‘it will be fateful for Russia and probably Europe if this task is not accomplished by next summer’. As painful experience would show, however, Denikin and his army would find overcoming the Bolshevik troops to be anything but easy.

  In terms of political analysis, Reilly claimed that the reformist objectives of the National Centre were in harmony with Denikin’s ultimate objectives. ‘Although in the main lines the political tendencies of the commander-in-chief and his council are identical with those of the National Centre, still monarchist aspirations are strong in some political coteries close to the commander-in-chief’. This was typical of a good number of statements made by Reilly. Like the Delphic Oracle of Ancient Greece, he often couched his pronouncements with qualifications and get-out clauses. In this case he identified generals Lukomsky and Dragomirov as ‘convinced monarchists’, both of whom held sway with Denikin in political matters. Reilly concluded his second dispatch almost prophetically, asserting that ‘there can only be one opinion on the urgent necessity of worldwide propaganda against Bolshevism as the greatest danger that ever threatened civilisation’.42 Clearly feeling ‘very pleased at the success of number 2’,43 Reilly got to meet Denikin and his key advisors on 10 January. The following day he was to quote Denikin’s views directly:

  People think that in order to pacify Russia, all one has to do is to take Moscow. To hear again the sound of the Kremlin bells would, of course be pleasant, but we cannot save Russia through Moscow. Russia has to be reconquered as a whole, and to do this we have to carry out a very wide-sweeping movement from the south, moving right across Russia. We cannot do this alone. We must have the assistance of the Allies. Equipment and armament alone are not sufficient; we must have Allied troops which will move behind us, holding territories which we will reconquer, by garrisoning the towns, policing the country and protecting our lines of communication.44

  It is worth noting that Denikin uses the word reconquer as opposed to liberate in this interview with Reilly, which is an indication in itself of his outlook. It also highlights one of the main reasons for his ultimate failure to win widespread trust and support among the general population.

  Whether or not this sentiment caused him any concern is not recorded in either Reilly’s dispatches or in his diary. He could not fail but notice the general disenchantment among the people, however, and warned that workers were being ‘driven into the arms of the Bolsheviks by the suppression of every kind of labour association’,45 and that all sections of society were outraged by the reactionary character and abuse of power by the regime of Cossack leader Peter Krasnov. Reilly was certainly correct in believing that Krasnov’s recent alliance with Denikin could not be relied upon, nor could Krasnov be trusted to respect Denikin’s authority.46 Proof of Reilly’s concerns about Krasnov were confirmed when the Cossack ‘flared up’ in a ‘rather aggressive way’47 during a meeting between the two. Krasnov stridently put forward the view that Denikin’s Volunteer Army command was only ‘thinking of grasping the maximum amount of power’.48 He also felt that the formation of Denikin’s government was ‘still in the experimental stages’. By contrast, he asserted that his own government had ‘a fully organised apparatus to take charge not only of the military but also of the economical tasks’.49

  On a personal note, Reilly noted disapprovingly that Gen. Poole was still ‘fooling around’ with two women.50 It is not clear, however, whether his displeasure was incurred by the ‘fooling around’ or that they were ‘such ugly women’.51 Reilly felt that this made a very ‘bad impression’!

  On 22 January Reilly and Hill received news that, on C’s recommendation, they were to receive the Military Cross ‘for distinguished services rendered in connection with Military operations in the Field’.52 That evening Reilly treated everyone to champagne, but noted in his diary that Col. Terence Keyes had refused to drink and was behaving ‘like a cad and fool’.53 Keyes and Reilly had taken an immediate dislike to each other on first meeting. Reilly’s diary is punctuated with a number of remarks about Keyes’ caddish behaviour. For his part, Reilly seems to have taken some delight in ‘annoying him immensely’.54

  On 3 February Reilly and Hill arrived in Odessa on the last leg of their mission together. The next day Hill was due to return to England and at Reilly’s behest they spent part of the day strolling around the city. While walking along Alexandrovsky Prospect, Reilly’s steps began to falter, his face went white and he fell to the ground. After some minutes he recovered but refused to discuss what had happened. Hill assumed that this was the result of an emotional crisis, possibly triggered by childhood memories or the like.55 This incident occurred outside house No. 15, and for this reason Hill theorised that Reilly may possibly have lived there as a child. While it is most likely that Reilly’s ‘emotional crisis’ was in fact a mild epileptic fit of the type he was prone to have at times of acute stress, the story is an intriguing one. Was it coincidental that his collapse occurred at this particular spot or was there perhaps, as Hill thought, something there that might have brought it about?

  During the 1880s and ’90s, No. 15 was owned by one Filuring Leon Solomonovich.56 There are no indications that anyone by the name of Rosenblum owned the property at any time during Reilly’s lifetime. His family could, of course, have been tenants, although following up such a theory is next to impossible due to the destruction of records for this particular period during the Second World War. However, one further possibility has since come to light as a result of research into Rosenblum family records. Five houses from the spot where Reilly fell stands 27 Alexandrovsky Prospect, the home of the late Mikhail Rosenblum, occupied in 1919 by his daughter Elena Rosenblum.57

  Late the following day Reilly accompanied Hill to Constanza Station to see him off on his long journey home. For reasons not apparent or explained, Reilly records in his diary ‘saw Hill off; were shot at’.58 This is a most puzzling reference, for it does not appear in Hill’s recollection of his departure. Although it is possible that this incident happened to Reilly after Hill’s train had departed, the circumstances surrounding the incident remain a mystery.

  The very same day that Hill departed from Odessa, Margaret Reilly arrived in London from Brussels. Having heard nothing from her husband as a result of her recent letters, Margaret had crossed the Channel, booked into the Buckingham Hotel off the Strand, and made a beeline for the Air Ministry. There she met one G.E. Pennington, who later wrote a brief minute of their meeting:

  These wives of Reilly are rather tiresome. About two months ago one came to the Air Ministry and asked for his address. I passed her on to Carrington. She gave an address at Brixton Hill, 2 Maple
stead Road. However, I don’t think it will do the Bolsheviks or the Germans any good to let MI1c’s man have a little licence.59

  She was, however, given the address of Capt. Spencer at the War Office, to whom she wrote on 4 February:

  Dear Sir,

  I have been advised at the Air Ministry – by Capt. Talbot, room 443 – to address myself to you by letter in order to have information of my husband, Lt S.G. Reilly, technical air officer. I appeal to you most earnestly to let me know where he is and how I can communicate with him.

  When the war broke out my husband was in Petrograd where he was established as Naval Agent and Ship Broker. The outbreak of hostilities surprised me in Brussels where I remained on hoping to receive a message there from Mr Reilly. None came, and eventually it was impossible to communicate with my husband. Trusting in your courtesy and kindness for an early reply,

  I remain dear Sir

  Yours truly

  Margaret Reilly60

  This, at last seemed to do the trick. Capt. Talbot had clearly established who Reilly was and noted that he was seconded to SIS. He therefore gave her the name of Capt. Spencer, a non-existent officer, whose name was used by senior SIS personnel when dealing with persons outside the department. As a result, a letter was sent to Reilly in Odessa. Whatever Margaret said to him in the letter it had the desired effect. Within days of receipt he cabled SIS in London as follows:

  19 February 1919

  Please pay Mrs REILLY from my account £100. Please inform her that I shall [group indecipherable] further provision when I return.61

  This reply was written at the London Hotel, Odessa, where he had checked in on 9 February. Now operating alone, his final dispatches were chiefly about the situation he found in Odessa. Southern Russia was divided into two Allied operational zones, the eastern zone British, the western zone French. The city of Odessa therefore had a French garrison of some 60,000 men, whom Reilly criticised for their ‘decidedly unfriendly’ attitude towards the Volunteer Army. He was particularly critical of Col. Henri Freydenberg, who he accused of deliberately obstructing the Volunteers’ efforts to supply, mobilise and operate their own forces. In particular he accused the French of ‘treating Russian staff officers with a total lack of elementary courtesy and even with insulting rudeness’, and of converting Odessa ‘into one of the worst administered and least safe cities in the world’.62

  On 21 February Reilly requested, ‘that I be ordered to return home as my further stay here is a waste of time and only verbal reports can elucidate this intricate situation’.63 By 10 March he was in Constantinople for a conference with John Picton Bagge and the Assistant British High Commissioner to Constantinople, Rear Admiral Richard Webb. Reilly’s reports were described by Webb as ‘disquieting’ and he immediately arranged for Reilly to leave for London so that he could give a full personal account at the Foreign Office. Walford Selby of the FO’s Russian Department concluded that Reilly’s reports contained ‘a fund of useful information on the subject of the whole situation in South Russia’.64 He also marked a copy of Reilly’s dispatch 13, concerning the state of affairs in Odessa, ‘Circulated to the king and War Cabinet’.

  In comparison to his first Russian mission the previous year, one might be tempted to conclude that he took a comparatively passive, indeed neutral, reporting role in the south of Russia. In reality he used his position in a very proactive way in support of Denikin, whose role as prime Bolshevik challenger he promoted unashamedly in his reports. As we shall see in the following chapter, true to form, he was also using the opportunity to make personal contacts and obtain commercial information that he would shortly seek to make capital out of in more ways than one.

  Having briefed the Foreign Office, Reilly was now reunited with Hill for a further short assignment. Hill recalled:

  Suddenly, I was instructed to go to Paris, and Reilly, who had by now returned from Odessa, was to go with me. We were to hold ourselves in readiness to give expert information should it be required, to observe what was happening in Paris, particularly in connection with Russian affairs, and possibly to act as liaison officers with the newly formed Council of Ambassadors.65

  From London Reilly and Hill travelled with a party of Admiralty officials and Sir William Bull, Conservative MP for Hammersmith South and a close friend of C. The party booked into the Hotel Majestic, where Bull introduced them to the Secretary of State for War, Winston Churchill, his aide Sir Archibald Sinclair, and Lord Northcliffe, the proprietor of the Daily Mail.

  After a few days at the hotel, Reilly and Hill were compelled to leave and move to the Hotel Mercedes, as the Foreign Office felt it was not appropriate for them to be staying at the same hotel as members of the official British delegation.66 At the Mercedes they found that the Greek Prime Minister, Eleutherios Venizelos, and his delegation were occupying two floors of the hotel. Hill was already acquainted with Venizelos, having met him on an earlier intelligence mission to Salonica in 1916, shortly after the Greeks entered the war on the Allied side. As a result of this and several rounds of late night drinks, Reilly and Hill learnt of Venizelos’ territorial ambitions for Greece,67 which they passed on to the Foreign Office. It was also here that they picked up a rumour that the Soviet government might, after all, be recognised and invited to send a delegation to the Paris Peace Conference. At lunch with a journalist by the name of Guglielmo, they were told that two envoys, William Bullitt and Lincoln Steffens, had been sent to Moscow by the American delegation to parley with the Bolsheviks. Bullitt had apparently telegraphed the text of the Bolsheviks’ proposals for potential recognition to President Wilson, who was supposedly much impressed. The next day, 25 March, Reilly and Hill breakfasted with Foreign Office officials Walford Selby and Harold Nicolson at a hotel in the Rue St Roque, which Reilly took great delight in volunteering had been Napoleon’s headquarters in 1795.68 Having been appraised of the ‘recognition’ rumours, Selby and Nicolson were then apparently treated to an encyclopaedic rendition by Reilly of almost every building in Paris which had any historic link to Napoleon.

  According to Hill they were later joined at the table by ‘an acquaintance on the staff of the American military delegation’, who told them that Bullitt ‘would be breakfasting with Mr Lloyd George the following morning’.69 What happened next is not so clear, as both Reilly and Hill claimed sole responsibility for taking the story to Henry Wickham Steed, the editor of the Daily Mail, who was in Paris at the time.70 The following day, 26 March, the Mail ran a sensationalist exposé of the proposal to recognise the Bolsheviks, under the headline ‘Peace with Honour’. In it, Wickham Steed attacked anyone in the Allied camp who would ‘directly or indirectly, accredit an evil thing known as Bolshevism’.71 As a result, Lloyd George backed away from the American proposal, and the possibility of recognition was scuppered, for the time being at least.

  Following the Daily Mail exposé, Hill was sent back to South Russia and Reilly returned to London, where he was briefly reunited with Nadine, who had left New York for London on 26 March on the SS Baltic. It had been eighteen long months since he had last seen her, during which time their lives had both moved on. It could not have taken him long after arriving back in London to realise that his relationship with Nadine had changed irrevocably. Months of separation and a host of mutual infidelities had undoubtedly taken their toll. The fact that within a fortnight of their reunion, Reilly journeyed alone to Southampton, where on 15 April he boarded the New York-bound SS Olympic, would seem to reaffirm this assumption.

  ELEVEN

  FINAL CURTAIN

  Instead of heading for New York as scheduled, the captain of the SS Olympic docked at Halifax, Nova Scotia, on 21 April, due to propeller trouble.1 Although most Olympic passengers completed their journey by transferring to the SS Adriatic, Reilly was in no mood to wait and took a train to New York’s Pennsylvania Station via Boston.2

  The object of his visit was to meet Samuel MacRoberts and as many other bankers as he could, in order to pe
rsuade them of the virtues of his latest ‘grand plan’. Working as an intermediary for Polish banker Karol Jaroszynsky,4 an old acquaintance from his pre-war St Petersburg days, Reilly was clearly seeking to lay the foundations for an Anglo-American syndicate to invest in a post-Bolshevik economy.

  Confirmation of his intentions are to be found in a cable dated 10 May to John Picton Bagge at the Department of Overseas Trade, in which he emphasised his belief that American business was looking for new export markets and saw Russia as a place of some potential.5 In Reilly’s view, MacRoberts in particular was keen to form a syndicate involving American and British interests to exploit the opportunities that a Denikin victory might bring. In an echo of the rivalry over munitions contracts during the war years, MacRoberts was keen to press ahead in order to gain an advantage over J. Pierrpont Morgan. On 15 May Reilly departed for England on board the White Star Line’s SS Baltic.6 Arriving in Liverpool on 25 May, he stayed overnight at the Adelphi Hotel before heading back to London.

  Bagge also saw the potential of the Jaroszynsky proposals, recognising that their success would not only bring about new market places for British-made goods, but might eventually lead to economic and political control of Russia. Ultimately, however, British banks like Lloyds, the London County and Westminster Bank and the National and Provincial Bank were reluctant to make major commitments while the success of the White forces was still in the balance. Indecisiveness and the snail-like progress of discussions within the Foreign Office, the Treasury and the Department of Overseas Trade meant that by the time consensus appeared to have been reached, it was a matter of ‘too little, too late’ to be of any benefit to Denikin.