Kronstadt

June 19, 1918

The captain sent for us this morning and told us to prepare. We would be on the island-base of Kronstadt before the end of day - if all went well.

We made ready, the Attentive arrived late afternoon, and by early evening, the captain came on deck to see us off.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “your trip has not been a happy one. I wish you better fortune here.”

We thanked him and then Holmes said, “Captain David, you have shown us your worth and wits in battle. It is we who wish you good fortune on your journey home.”

“Ah, yes. Well, we shall be here for a while for more permanent repair, then we must be home rather quickly. I greatly suspect that Kaiser Willy will try to make our voyage home even more eventful. There is more to this business, you know.”

He saluted as we went aboard the packet boat, and as we chugged into Kronstadt, Holmes and I saw what was left of the Russian North Fleet; battered so harshly by German guns and seamanship. Searchlights only served to heighten the damp air of death and doom that clung so tenaciously to that melancholy place.

Since March 3rd, when the treaty of Brest-Litovsk had been signed and took the Russians actively out of the war, a kind of limbo had engulfed all here, men and ships alike. They were thrust into a very personal purgatory.

As we neared the dock, Holmes and I focused on a large, black motor car with what looked like a military escort in front and behind. It was flying red flags of revolution.

As we stepped ashore, a Russian soldier opened a rear door for his officer who emerged and then strolled casually towards us. He stopped quite close, looked intently at both of our faces, took a deep breath and then, in a perfect English accent, said, “Welcome, comrades, I am Colonel Relinsky.”