by Max Hennessy
There was a movement round the court. Kirkham pulled his gown round him and Moyalan adjusted his wig with a nervous gesture. The scar-faced juryman whispered something to his neighbour, then the small red-robed figure on the bench lifted its head and swept the public gallery, and the incipient murmur that had started there died again at once.
‘Please proceed, Sir Henry.’
‘My instructions originally,’ Prideaux went on, ‘had been that we were to withdraw to the coast but by this time, the position of the White armies was becoming precarious. There was a general retreat on and the armies – both in Siberia under Kolchak and in the south under Denikin – were disintegrating under the pressure of the Bolsheviks. It seemed to me, therefore, that as the town contained a great number of civilian refugees, including women and children, it was up to me to do something to enable them to get away to safety. After signalling my commanding officer, General Inde, I decided to regard the instructions to British troops as not applying to my mixed unit. We left the town, as I’ve said, and moved to a position in front of Budenny.’
The flat tones halted and it seemed almost as though someone had stopped reading an official report. For a moment, General Prideaux seemed to be struggling with his memory.
‘We were in land broken by hilly ranges and dominated by a rocky ridge called Kinzhal Chorniye,’ he continued at last. ‘There were numerous valleys and slopes and it was difficult at times to see what was ahead of us. Major Higgins had wanted to bring his motor cars with him but I had given instructions that they were to remain in the rear in a place of safety where they could get away easily and not interfere with the movement of the horsed soldiers.’
He paused again, staring down at his hands, then his head came up and he continued briskly.
‘The Red Army came up to us near the village of Dankoi on the afternoon of November 6th,’ he went on, ‘and there was a conference of senior officers. As soon as the fighting started, we realised we were outnumbered, but it seemed to me that we might throw the enemy units into confusion just long enough for us to withdraw. While Russian troops with us held positions to the right and left rear of me, I gave the order to the Kouragine Hussars to attack the enemy who were still coming into position in front of us.’
‘You gave the order?’ Kirkham asked.
‘I personally gave the order,’ Prideaux agreed. ‘As we began to move forward, I saw Major Higgins approaching me with one of the cars. He was shouting to me to stop the charge.’
There was a gasp from the public gallery and Kirkham nodded approvingly.
‘Why did he ask you to stop the charge?’ he demanded.
Prideaux gestured. ‘I can only imagine he was afraid of the results of non-success,’ he said gruffly.
‘And you?’
‘I had weighed up our chances, and come to the conclusion that I had no option but to continue. It has always been a cavalry maxim that hard-hitting horsemen can throw an enemy off-balance if they are sufficiently resolute. I ordered him aside. The charge then took place.’ Prideaux became silent, and there was a sympathetic hush as he paused. It was obvious that everyone in the court was on his side.
Kirkham spoke silkily. ‘I realise that this is painful to you, General,’ he said, ‘but we don’t need the tragic details of the charge. I have them here in this volume before me on the desk.’ Kirkham looked up at Godliman. ‘This is the official report on the campaign round Nikolovssk, my lord,’ he said. ‘In addition,’ he moved a sheaf of typed papers, ‘I have copies here of all newspaper reports appertaining to it. I think we have enough details about that and it doesn’t really concern us.’
Godliman nodded and Kirkham turned back to Prideaux. ‘Please tell us very simply what happened,’ he said.
Prideaux moved his hands on the rail of the witness box. ‘We managed to throw back the Red cavalry,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, two Russian units I had with me did not press home behind us as I had expected them to do and, in fact, both of them were turned aside. I understood later that they had deserted to their Communist comrades. With the exception of their officers and a few N.C.O.s and men, I never saw them again.’
‘And the charge, General?’
‘I was the first man into the Russian cavalry. I received a blow on the head from something – a rifle, I believe. I can remember very little about it now, but I do recall withdrawing and riding back up the slope with my people. Unhappily, due to the disaffection of the Russians I’d been relying on, the casualties were higher than I’d expected. But we’d driven the enemy back and gained a little time. We were able to retreat in safety to Nikolovssk where we found that trains had been getting away the civilian population.’
Prideaux paused, staring at his hands, then he lifted his head and continued briskly.
‘We remained that night in the town, which was by now in a state of great confusion as the Bolsheviks drew nearer,’ he continued. ‘While there, I received an officer by the name of Sublimev, from the staff of General Denikin, the Russian commander, begging me, on behalf of the general, not to remove my regiment to the south because of the danger that White troops would be cut off. I saw his point, but I had received information that my senior officer in Khaskov, General Inde, and his chief-of-staff were incapacitated by the typhus which was at that time raging in the area. Brigadier Speed, his deputy, had already gone home and I came to the conclusion it was my duty to go to Khaskov and endeavour to take over in their place. I left the regiment in the command of Major Higgins with instructions to remain in Nikolovssk until ordered to withdraw and, with Major Finch as my chief-of-staff, I went to headquarters at Khaskov where I found that General Inde had, in fact, died. I therefore remained at headquarters until the end, organising the retreat of the British forces in the area.’
‘In spite of your wound?’
‘Yes. It was impossible by this time, of course, to get back to Nikolovssk. Trains were only going one way by now and the up-line as well as the down-line was occupied by down-trains. On November 11th, I decided it was impossible to stay even in Khaskov and made up my mind we must leave for the coast. I accordingly telegraphed to Major Higgins to bring out the remains of the regiment. Unfortunately, he acted too late and when he did not arrive at Khaskov we had to assume he had been taken prisoner. We left Khaskov for Novorossiisk on the coast. Major Higgins did not appear even then and I had to allow myself to be evacuated without him. He actually arrived after the ships had left and as a result many of the men were lost and our casualties were made even higher. They finally arrived home later in the year.’
Kirkham smiled. ‘Thank you, General. You ordered the charge, you were the first man to reach the enemy, and you led your troops out of the charge?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Thank you.’
* * *
Kirkham sat down with a flirt of his gown and Moyalan rose slowly, dark, small and saturnine and looking like a groom.
‘Sir Henry,’ he said, his voice thin and sharp after Kirkham’s plummy tones. ‘I don’t intend to question you a great deal on your evidence. On the whole I accept your story of the charge, but there are a few things I’m not quite clear about. For instance, when were you actually appointed to take over your command in Nikolovssk?’
Prideaux frowned. ‘April 1st, 1919.’
There was a titter at the back of the court and Moyalan smiled. ‘A somewhat sinister date,’ he commented.
Prideaux didn’t return the smile and Moyalan went on, unperturbed.
‘You received a decoration for the action at Dankoi, I believe?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘And an immediate advance in rank to brigadier?’
‘Yes.’
‘When did you learn of this promotion and decoration?’
‘Some time later, on the way home from Russia.’
‘From then on, therefore, it might be said, your career never looked back. You had been noticed. Various other appointments followed?’
‘So that, instead of retiring as a colonel as you might have done, you are still in the army and have reached the highest commands?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because your name had been brought to the notice of your superiors as a result of what happened at Dankoi?’
Prideaux frowned at Moyalan. ‘You might say that,’ he agreed gruffly.
‘Thank you. Now, let’s go back to that period just before Dankoi. The first person you met on arrival at Nikolovssk to take command was the British officer in charge of the railway there, this Captain Barry you have mentioned?’
‘Yes. There was no one to meet me and I went to him for information.’
‘I see. Would you say from your later dealing with him, that he was a good officer?’
‘As far as I can remember.’
‘Devoted?’
Prideaux frowned, as though he were not in the habit of using such fulsome words for his subordinates. ‘Conscientious,’ he corrected.
‘Thank you. Now, you stated that when you arrived in Nikolovssk the affairs of the Kouragine Hussars, whom you were to take over, were in a pretty sorry state,’
‘That’s correct.’
‘And that Major Higgins was conducting an affair with a young Russian woman?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you recall her name?’
‘No, I don’t. It’s a long time ago.’
‘I understand it was Katerina Dimitrievna Vronskina. Could that have been it?’
Prideaux considered. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It might.’
‘Could you be sure, General?’
Prideaux nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, now I think about it I am sure.’
‘And this affair? What sort of affair was it?’
Prideaux looked puzzled. ‘A lot of fellows were conducting affairs with young women,’ he said. ‘Some were harmless, I suppose. Some were not. But they all had an effect on the quality of the work done.’
There was a burst of laughter and Prideaux looked pleased, rather like a humourless man who finds he has made an unexpected joke. The white-haired ex-officer on the jury smiled broadly, as though he appreciated the jest, but Moyalan’s face showed no change of expression.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Now let us go back a little further, Sir Henry. You had been taken prisoner in France in 1914, I believe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Leading your men into action?’
‘Yes.’
‘What sort of action was it? A mounted action? A charge like Dankoi?’
‘Yes. My squadron was ordered to capture a German field battery.’
‘What happened?’
‘The enemy had brought up machine guns. Only a few of us actually reached the battery.’
‘The charge was, in fact, a failure then?’
Prideaux frowned and his fingers clenched on the rail of the witness box. ‘From the point of view of gaining its objective, yes,’ he said stiffly.
‘How did the action end for you?’
‘I was knocked over. Wounded. I don’t know what happened. When I came to I was in hospital and a prisoner.’
‘Were you, in fact, struck down by the sword of a mounted German officer?’
‘I was told that was so.’
‘And this was one of the things that delayed your arrival in Russia?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Thank you, Sir Henry. Now – these cars of Major Higgins that you disliked so much. Where were they when you arrived at Nikolovssk?’
‘Standing in the yard at the barracks.’
‘You say there were a dozen men and a sergeant-major with them?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Were they, in fact, fixing mountings for machine guns?’
Prideaux considered. ‘They may have been,’ he agreed. ‘In fact, I think they did have detachable mountings.’
‘And one of the cars – am I right in my information that it was a Rolls-Royce armoured car?’
‘Yes. It was a mock-up affair done somewhere in South Russia. It wasn’t very efficient but Major Higgins had a bee in his bonnet about armour.’
‘Naturally,’ Moyalan said dryly. ‘He’d served through the battles at Ypres, the Somme and Passchendaele. He knew how valuable it was.’
Prideaux frowned at the implied rebuke and Moyalan went on quietly.
‘And, in fact, after the charge, did not this armour the cars carried enable them to rescue the wounded?’
‘I believe they did rescue a few,’ Prideaux agreed. Moyalan flipped at his wig. ‘During the final retreat of Denikin’s armies, while you were at Khaskov, you say you sent instructions to Major Higgins to bring what was left of his men towards the coast but that they delayed and were not evacuated with the rest of the troops?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know whether, in fact, they received those instructions?’
‘I assumed they did. I know I sent them.’
‘Was it you who sent them, Sir Henry?’
Prideaux’s brows went down as though he resented Moyalan’s probing. ‘It’s not a colonel’s job to write out signals,’ he said sharply. ‘I told Major Finch to see that the signals were sent. He sent them.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘He told me he had.’
‘But you never saw them sent?’
‘Of course not. I had other things to do.’
Moyalan looked up at Prideaux, his hand on a large red book on the table in front of him. ‘I have noticed from your published memoirs of the war in Russia, which I have here,’ he said, ‘that you left Khaskov for the south on November 12th.’
‘Yes. That’s so.’
‘When did you send the messages to the Kouragine Hussars then?’
‘The day before.’
‘November 11th?’
‘Yes.’
‘You remember the date well?’
‘Everyone who served in the war has good reason to remember the date of the Armistice.’
‘Quite so. Where was Major Finch at the time? You had instructed him to see the messages were sent – personally – but you didn’t accompany him. Did you see him afterwards?’
‘No. I never saw him again that day.’
‘In spite of the urgency of your departure and the amount of work going on?’
‘He appeared next morning,’ Prideaux said quietly, but as though the questions irritated him. ‘He looked ill. He said he’d had a recurrence of malaria contracted in India before the war. I thought it might be typhus. It was raging at the time and my predecessor in Khaskov had died of it.’
‘Did Major Finch recover quickly?’
‘Yes. He seemed to.’
‘Could his sickness have been due to something else perhaps? Drink, for instance? It was the anniversary of Armistice Night, wasn’t it? Could he have been celebrating?’
Prideaux frowned. ‘He could,’ he said. ‘But I have no proof that he did.’
Moyalan nodded. ‘Very well. Now, this battle at Dankoi – how many troops were there in Nikolovssk?’
‘Including the Russians, probably several thousand.’
‘Did they all accompany you to Dankoi?’
‘No. We left a battalion of infantry in the Slavska Barracks, We couldn’t trust them. We also left some in the town to guard the railway.’
‘Then how many would there be with you when you fought the battle at Dankoi?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘I have a book here,’ Moyalan lifted another volume from the table, ‘written by Christopher Murray-Hughes, the war correspondent. He was present at Dankoi, and he seems to suggest – though I must say he seems rather vague – that practically the whole of the troops in Nikolovssk accompanied you.’
Prideaux shrugged. ‘If he says so,’ he commented, ‘then I expect that’s right. My own memory of the battle is poor. After the blow I received on the head, I remember remarkably little.’
Moyalan
nodded. ‘Was there ever an enquiry into the action at Dankoi, General?’ he asked.
Prideaux frowned. ‘Enquiries are not held in the army except where there is some suggestion of inefficiency or dereliction of duty.’
Moyalan smiled. ‘I beg your pardon, General. You must bear with me. I am not skilled in military procedure. Now – the roads. You mentioned that the roads were bad, particularly for cars.’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the plains? Could they not have done without roads?’
‘I’m not an expert. I wouldn’t have thought so.’
‘I see.’ Moyalan didn’t press the point. ‘Just two last questions, Sir Henry. These officers you had under your command – in particular Major Higgins and Captain Potter. They had served through the war in France which preceded the Russian campaign, had they not?’
‘I understood so.’
‘Captain Potter, in fact, won the Military Cross and bar?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you were taken prisoner in 1914?’
‘Yes.’
‘And from then on, from November, 1914, until your release in November, 1918, you spent the rest of the war, through all the great changes in warfare that arose, when cavalry ceased to be functional and armoured vehicles came into use, as a prisoner of war?’
Prideaux’s eyes glittered, then he nodded slowly.
Moyalan smiled. ‘Thank you, Sir Henry,’ he said cheerfully. ‘That is all.’
5
Medical evidence
There was a faint air of disappointment about the public gallery. So far there had been little of note or even of scandal in the evidence. The action at Dankoi, allowing for the unreliability of the Russian volunteers, seemed to have been a normal enough fight; and so far there had been only a hint of the tensions that must have lain below the surface at Nikolovssk. The reporters were writing busily, but without any suggestion of urgency, as though they were producing only straightforward news rather than sensations.