Cumming was squinting at him through his monocle.
‘It wasn’t until the tsar abdicated and the Provisional Government was set up that they finally did much. They raised two divisions on the eastern front, Russian uniforms and arms, of course, and Russian officers as well. Made a good fist of things, too, by all accounts until Kerensky’s government collapsed. When the Bolsheviks took over and signed a separate peace, the Legion was left high and dry.’
He took his monocle out, polished it with a handkerchief, replaced it and regarded Paul solemnly.
‘I don’t have to tell you the consequence of forty German divisions being transferred to the western front. Aircraft and armour, all feeding the offensive. The Allies and the Czech National Council have lobbied to have the Legion transferred to France although that, of course, isn’t proving easy to arrange.’
He began rummaging among the papers on the desk. ‘Map? Where’s the damn map, Browning?’
Browning took up the rummaging and eventually came up with a roll of paper. They cleared a space and Browning opened it, pinning either end with weights.
The great width of the Russian Empire — upside down — lay spread before Paul. From Poland and the Baltic States in the west, to Kamkatchka and the Bering Sea in the east. Here and there he could see a smattering of towns and cities distributed within its vastness, dotted like lonely stars in an empty firmament and connected by only a sparse hatched line that denoted the Trans-Siberian Railway.
‘The plan had been,’ Cumming said, laying a fat finger on the line, ‘to get the Czech Legion to the western front by transporting them along here, the Trans-Siberian Railway to Vladivostok.’ He stabbed at the eastern port. ‘They were to be put on steamers, cross the Pacific to North America, and then shipped back to France.’ He glanced up. ‘A damned roundabout route in my opinion but it was a French show and there you are. It took until March to get the approval of the Bolsheviks. They weren’t keen on using the Baltic ports, of course. Too many armed men too close to Petersburg for their liking.’
Cumming returned his finger to the railway line.
‘Two-hundred and fifty trains. What is it they call ‘em, Browning?’
‘Échelons.’
‘Right, échelons. Something of a logistical nightmare, as you can imagine, Rostov. But the Legion elected their own officers — under Russian commanders — and got themselves organised.’ He glanced up again. ‘Not our way but Johnny Foreigner has his own methods.’
‘And the Bolsheviks agreed to this?’ Paul asked doubtfully.
‘Initially, yes. Only too keen to get the Czechs out of Russia. After all, they’re Brigade strength now and despite having to surrender some of their weapons they’re still well-armed. They were none too pleased when the Bolsheviks concluded a separate peace either, as you might imagine. So the quicker the Bolsheviks got them out, the better for them. Then the Germans threw a spanner in the works.’
‘Did they?’
‘Naturally they weren’t too keen of having a fresh brigade transferred to the western front and started demanding their own POWs back. So the Bolsheviks gave priority to Central Power prisoners moving west, allowing the Czechs to move east only when they could. The consequence of this is that now the Legion is spread out over the whole length of the line. Some have already arrived in Vladivostok, some are still west of the Urals, and the rest are at points between. To speed things up we suggested that all units west of Omsk be diverted to Archangel, while those east of Omsk carry on to Vladivostok as planned. But the Bolshies still weren’t keen on this, not at first anyway, and by the time we finally got their agreement the whole thing blew up in our face.’
‘How?’
‘Chelyabinsk.’
Cumming turned the map sideways so that Paul was hovering over Poland and Cumming was in the Sea of Japan. He poked a finger at the town of Chelyabinsk.
‘The Bolsheviks there arrested the Czechs officers over the lynching. The Czechs, having superior numbers, simply took them back. The upshot was that Trotsky ordered any member of the Legion found armed to be shot on sight.’
Behind him Browning chuckled. ‘Overplayed his hand.’
‘The Czechs responded,’ Cumming went on, ‘by seizing their trains and Chelyabinsk station.’
Paul muttered, ‘Good show,’ sensing it was the sort of response they expected.
‘All very well,’ Cumming sniffed, ‘but the point is, now they’re aware of Trotsky’s order, the Czechs won’t hear of embarking at Archangel. In their opinion that would split their force in two and weaken their position.’
The three of them stared at the map. Paul felt the ball to be in his court.
‘So, to sum up,’ he said, trying to muster the salient points of what he’d been told, ‘the Czechs want to go east and get out of Russia just as much as the Bolsheviks want them out. Only the Bolsheviks have made a mess of it, lost the initiative and now have forty-thousand rather angry armed men sitting across their railway line.’
He looked down at the map and tried to imagine the Legion occupying the railway line, a thin scattering of men stretched over thousands of miles of wilderness from the Urals to the Pacific. Then he tried to picture himself there, tasked with doing something about it. His head began to spin.
‘The Germans,’ he began again, attempting to calm his apprehension. ‘They may not want them brought round to the western front, but I can’t see there’s a lot they can do about it. I mean, they’re not likely to break their treaty over it, are they, and risk opening up the Russian front again? Not now we’ve finally managed to hold them in the west. And it’s only forty-thousand men. They don’t compare with the German divisions the Russian peace freed up for our front.’
Cumming was smiling inscrutably. ‘There, Browning, didn’t I say, rascal or not, he’d get to grips with the situation? Well done, Rostov.’
Browning, looking unconvinced, said nothing.
Paul frowned, wrong-footed by Cumming’s praise and not caring to be called a ‘rascal’. He felt there had to be more. He was almost afraid to ask.
‘So why can’t the evacuation through Vladivostok go ahead as arranged?’ he asked. ‘It might take longer than planned, but I can’t see that that’s a problem.’
‘The problem,’ Cumming replied, ‘is that the situation has changed.’
‘Because of what happened at Chelyabinsk?’
‘The political situation,’ said Browning.
Cumming drummed a tattoo on the desk with his fingers.
‘Ever since the Russian Front collapsed, the Supreme Allied War Council has been looking for ways of bolstering it.’ He straightened the map again and pointed to Murmansk. ‘We’ve five thousand troops here guarding war matériel that was meant for the Russian army. They’re there to stop the supplies falling into German hands.’
‘Or Bolshevik hands now,’ said Browning.
‘The same goes for Vladivostok,’ Cumming resumed. ‘Only the supplies there are infinitely more valuable than those at Murmansk and we don’t have the spare men to guard them. Just a couple of ships. There is a Japanese force there and the Americans are expected. There’s also a contingent of the Legion who are waiting for troopships to take them off.’