With Cheka raids taking place throughout Petrograd, Capt. George Hill sent Lockhart a message using SIS ‘dictionary’ code: ‘I have’, he reported, ‘been over the network of our organisation and found everything intact’. ‘There was undoubtedly a fair amount of nervousness among some of the agents’, however.1 Hill, under the impression that Reilly had been arrested by the Cheka, assured Lockhart that, ‘I have got all of Lt Reilly’s affairs under my control, and provided I can get money it would be possible to carry on’.2 Lockhart was never to receive the message, for when Hill’s courier arrived at Lockhart’s flat, she found that it had shortly before been raided and Lockhart arrested. The message was therefore diverted to Lockhart’s assistant, Capt. Will Hicks. Hicks replied that it was important to lie low for some days to come, and that to the best of his knowledge there would be no more money for Hill as the source for obtaining it had completely dried up. Hicks too was of the view that Reilly had been arrested, although he had no news to confirm this. On receipt, Hill sent a further message to Gen. Poole informing him of the day’s events in Moscow.
At midday on 4 September, ‘a girl of Lt Reilly’s’ brought Hill a message to say that he was safe in Moscow, having travelled by train in a first-class compartment from Petrograd. On arrival at the Nicolai Station in Moscow, he had been informed that his chief courier and mistress, Elizaveta Otten, had been arrested. Hill immediately went to see Reilly, who was now in hiding, occupying two rooms in a flat ‘at the back end of town’.3 When Hill arrived there he found that Reilly had changed his name but was not going out during the day or even at night, as he had no identity papers to match the new name he was using. Reilly wanted a passport, some new clothes and another place to stay, as his present abode was ‘entirely unsuitable’.4 Although Hill makes no direct reference to whose flat this was, the transcript of the so-called ‘Lockhart Trials’ reveals testimony by Olga Starzhevskaya, who states that Reilly stayed with her between 3 and 4 September, which coincides exactly with the two days he spent at ‘the back end of town’.5
When Hill proposed that Reilly should make his escape by the safest route, heading westwards via the Ukraine, using a network of agents in that area for safe houses and assistance, Reilly refused. This route, he felt, would take far too long, and instead chose the more dangerous option of travelling north to Finland, from where he hoped to make his way to a neutral port. In the meantime, Hill moved Reilly to new accommodation the following day, 5 September. Intriguingly, although Hill was not specific as to the location, it would seem from his report that this was an office of some description.6 His dramatised version of these events, published in 1932, however, gives a slightly different account. According to this, Hill lodged Reilly with a prostitute who ‘was in the last stages of the disease which so often curses members of her profession’. Hill claimed that Reilly ‘was the most fastidious of men and while being caught by the Bolsheviks had little terror for him, he could hardly bring himself to spend the night on the couch in her room’.7 In another clue that suggests that he spent 3 and 4 September with Olga Starzhevskaya, Hill states that Reilly’s change of apartment was a good thing, ‘for the place where he had spent the previous night was raided by the Cheka the next evening’.8 This would therefore be the night of 5 September, the date of Olga’s arrest. That same evening six or seven of Hill’s couriers were arrested and summarily executed by the Cheka.
The key to the SIS dictionary code used by Reilly and Hill to communicate with each other while in hiding.
As Hill was not suspected of involvement in the Lockhart Plot, Capt. Hicks decided that he should drop his cover of George Bergmann, resume the identity of Capt. George Hill, and leave Russia with the British Mission, who had been given clearance to leave by the Bolshevik authorities. This was most fortuitous for Reilly, for Hill was now able to give him the George Bergmann identity papers that would enable him to make his escape. According to Hill’s report, Reilly left Moscow aboard a sleeper train bound for Petrograd on Sunday 8 September,9 although Reilly’s own recollection some seven years later was that the date was Wednesday 11 September.10 Hill’s account, being recorded at the time, is more likely to be the correct one. The date of his departure aside, the chronology of Reilly’s recollections coincide pretty much with accounts given by other participants. Reilly’s account states:
Having finished the liquidation of my affairs in Moscow, on 11 September, I departed for Petrograd in a railway car of the international society in a compartment reserved for the German Embassy, accompanied by one of their legation secretaries and using the passport of a Baltic German. I spent about ten days in Petrograd, hiding in various places, to liquidate my network there and also search for a way to cross the Finnish border – I wanted to escape to Finland. I was not able to do this, so I then decided to go through Revel [now Tallinn]. I departed Petrograd for Kronstadt, after receiving a ‘Protection Certificate’, which was issued to natives of the Baltic. I had, in addition to this document for exiting Petrograd for Kronstadt, a pass issued to one of the Petrograd workers committees in a Russian name. There was a launch with a Finnish captain already waiting for me at Kronstadt, on which I spent the night. I set off for Revel… In Revel I took up residence in the Hotel Petrograd using the name of George Bergmann, an antiquarian who had left Russia after a misunderstanding with the Soviet authorities… After ten days I departed secretly on the launch for Helsingfors, and from there to Stockholm and London, where I arrived on 8 November.11
Passing through Revel before crossing the Gulf of Finland to Helsingfors was not an option without risk, for Estonia was then under German occupation and the port was a major naval base teeming with officers and ratings of the German Baltic fleet. Fortunately, on disembarking, the Germans found ‘Herr Bergmann’s’ identity papers to be in order and he was able to walk away unhindered. At the hotel in Harju Street he mixed freely with the German officers staying there and dined with them on several occasions, as well as with the captain and his wife.
It was probably with some relief on Reilly’s part that the little boat eventually left Revel for Helsingfors a few days later. On arrival he bade the captain farewell and gave him a sealed, handwritten letter (in German):
I feel that after everything you have done for me, I must not leave you here clothed in all the lies I had to use, and that I owe it to you to say who I really am. I am neither Bergmann nor an art dealer. I am an English officer, Lt Sidney Reilly, RFC, and have been for about six months on a special mission in Russia, and have been accused by the Bolsheviks of being the military organiser of a great plot in Moscow… I believe it is not necessary to stress that I consider it my duty towards you not to interest myself in anything military here, and not to pump the officers who were introduced to me. I believe that I played the role of the art dealer Herr Bergmann quite well, only once or twice did I catch myself using an English expression; for the rest, I imagine your lady wife was a little suspicious of me! It would be useless to offer you my gratitude – it is too big.12
Despite the self-created myths of daring missions behind German lines, this was his only genuine encounter with German personnel during wartime. That aside, it should equally be acknowledged that he was taking no risks at Revel. Had he been exposed as a fleeing British spy, he would certainly have faced a firing squad.
While Reilly was on his way back to London from Helsingfors, the US Consul, De Witt Poole, en route to America, called into the British Embassy in Christiania (now Oslo) on 30 September. His interview with the British Ambassador resulted in a ‘personal and most secret’ telegram to the Foreign Office in London from Ambassador Sir Mansfeldt Findlay:
There is strong suspicion that an agent named Reilly, whose wife appears to be living in New York, has either compromised Lockhart, who employed him in propaganda among Letts, by exceeding his instructions and endeavouring to provoke a revolt against the Bolsheviks, or has even betrayed him.
Reilly advocated encouraging a revolt, but Lockhart, after consulting the United States Consul General and the French Consul General, refused to do so, and instructed Reilly to limit his efforts to propaganda with a view to deterring the Letts soldiers from resisting Allied forces. It appears that Reilly was in communication with a certain Russian strongly suspected of being an agent provocateur, to whom he had given an address at which he still remained some days ago. Lockhart is now arrested. Neither Reilly nor the Russian has been arrested, and they are still at large. Hence suspicion.13
The telegram clearly caused quite a stir when it was decoded in London on 1 October. The Foreign Secretary, Arthur Balfour, appears to have concurred with the cautious advice from his Department of Political Intelligence. The DPI’s Rex Leeper advised Balfour that he had seen several reports from Reilly and had found them satisfactory. He further pointed out that Poole’s account at least cleared Lockhart of the charges levelled at him by the Bolsheviks. The FO’s Russia Department also assured Balfour that Reilly would be, ‘closely interrogated’ on his return. The matter was then passed over to Maj.-Gen. George Macdonogh, the Director of Military Intelligence at the War Office. Macdonogh in turn sent a copy to Lt-Col. C.N. French, the War Office liaison with SIS, who contacted C for his response. The response to French was used to compose a reply to Sir Ronald Graham at the Foreign Office on 10 October:
Reilly is an officer who was sent to Russia as a military agent last March. In June, it became apparent that his utility as a military agent was being impaired by the fact that he was in touch with Mr Lockhart, who was using him for some political purpose. Reilly had been warned most specifically that he was not to get into any official position, or to get mixed up with politics; therefore when it became apparent that he was doing so, a wire was sent ordering him to proceed to Siberia to report on German prisoner-of-war camps – this with the idea of getting him away from the political atmosphere, in which he was being involved. He apparently never went there; perhaps he was ordered not to by Mr Lockhart. He certainly had no business to be doing propaganda, which he apparently was instructed to do by Mr Lockhart. MI1c [SIS] have all the details of this man’s career, and I suggest that it is advisable to wire to Sir M. Findlay to advise him and Mr Poole that they should not raise a hue and cry about Reilly until we know more about the circumstances. We have had one report that it was a Lettish officer who gave the plot away; and because it has failed, it does not seem right or just that the blame should be cast on this man who should properly have never been employed on such work. Presumably the clue to which the United States Consul General refers, is the fact that Reilly’s wife is in America. MI1c have her address, and incidentally some of Reilly’s valuables and his Will.14
Reilly arrived back in England on 8 November and immediately reported to C to give a personal account of himself. Whether C confronted him about his background check or opted to let sleeping dogs lie is not known. Clearly concerns were raised by Poole’s cable and the fact that his cover had been blown. Reference to Reilly in the Russian press had been picked up by journalists in England and on the continent, resulting in a measure of unwelcome publicity for the novice agent.
This had other unfortunate repercussions for Reilly, as it would appear that one avid reader of the ‘Lockhart’ story in the Brussels press was none other than his estranged wife Margaret, who, as a result, had presented herself at the Netherlands Legation (British Section) on 15 October seeking news of her husband. Two days later she followed up her visit with a letter:
Dear Sir,
Referring to the interview I had with your bureau last Tuesday 15 instant, it was only after I came away from the Rue de la Science, that I remembered that I omitted to leave you my address. Since giving up my house in the Rue Montoyer I have been staying with friends (Mr and Mrs Wary) 13 Rue de Linthout.
It has been announced a few days ago in the Dutch papers that Colonel Lockhart the English agent had arrived at the Swedish frontier coming from Russia. Colonel Lockhart will have been accompanied by a number of other Englishmen. It is possible that my husband Mr Reilly may have been among the number. At all events it is certain that Colonel Lockhart will be able to give direct news of him.
I ask you earnestly Mr van Kattendyke, to try and get me into communication with my husband as soon as possible. I feel and know that I cannot hold out much longer.
In hopeful anticipation, I remain yours truly,
Margaret Reilly15
A month passed and with no news presenting itself as a result of her letter, she wrote directly to the War Office in London on 16 November 1918:
Gentlemen,
I write to ask for news of my husband, Sidney George Reilly, who I have reason to believe has been actively working against the Bolshevist government in Russia.
In various papers published here in the first weeks of September of this year there were accounts of a Franco-English programme to capture Lenin, Trotsky and company and to establish a military dictatorship in Moscow. The names of the American and French Consuls POOL [sic] and GRONARD were mentioned. Also the French general Lavergne. The leader of the movement, however, seems to have been the English colonel Lockhart who was actively seconded by the English agent Lt Reilly.
In reading these reports I was forced to the conclusion that the agent in question [Reilly] could be no other than my husband as he knows Russian extremely well having been a well-known naval agent and shipbroker in St Petersburg before the war. As I have been totally without news of my husband since 28 July 1914 you will understand Gentlemen how anxious I am to know if he is alive and to able [sic] to get word to him. Pray be so good as to let me have a reply as soon as possible.
Yours very truly
Margaret Reilly16
An unsigned copy letter in reply advises her that, ‘If you will send him a letter at the above address same will be forwarded by first opportunity’. The carbon copy gives no clue to ‘the above address’, but it is fair to assume that it was the Air Board, under whom all RAF personnel came. Officially, Reilly was an RAF lieutenant, and any enquiries from family concerning the whereabouts of service personnel were dealt with in a like manner. Not unsurprisingly, it would appear that Reilly made no reply to Margaret’s letter, and as a result she wrote on 4 January 1919 directly to the Air Board:
Gentlemen,
I ask you urgently for news of my husband Sidney G. Reilly who I am told is captain in the Royal Flying Corps. Since the outbreak of war I am absolutely without a word or message of any kind from him. I, having been surprised by the war here in Belgium whilst my husband was in St Petersburg where he had an important business as naval agent and ship-broker.
Friends met him in London in April 1918. He was wearing the uniform of a captain in the Royal Flying Corps and was staying at 22 Ryder Street, St James’s. He mentioned to the friends in question that he would very shortly be going abroad; though he did not say where he was going.
The British Minister here, Sir Francis Villiers, received a despatch from the Foreign Office stating that Mr Reilly had been working against the Bolsheviks and, being compromised, escaped into Finland.
It was Sir Francis who advised me to write to you. Will you not have pity for me gentlemen, and let me know as soon as possible what has become of my dear husband? If you can communicate with him please let him know that in health I am well but that I desire ardently to hear from him. My financial situation is also rather strained. I enclose a photograph of Mr Reilly. Thanking you in anticipation for a word in reply,
I remain yours truly
Margaret Reilly17
One cannot help suspecting that the main motive for wanting to trace her estranged husband was the ‘strained financial position’ she refers to. It would seem that Margaret had been experiencing a difficult time financially during the war when she lost contact with Reilly. In fact, there is strong evidence to suggest that her financial problems extended somewhat further back. On 15 May 1914 she made a Will naming the sole beneficiary as one Joseph Wary of The Villa Charlotte in Zellick, Belgium, ‘as evidence of my gratitude for the financial help which he gave me’.18
Little did Margaret know, as she sat down to write to the Air Board on 4 January, that her ‘dear husband’ was at that moment several thousand miles away back in Russia, lunching with Boris Suvorin in Ekaterinodar, Ukraine. As an acknowledgement of C’s confidence he had, within weeks, been assigned another mission, this time in the company of Capt. George Hill, whose acquaintance he had made in Moscow.
A few days after arriving back in London on 11 November, the day the war finally came to an end, Hill was summoned to SIS headquarters by C to report personally on the work he had undertaken in Russia.19 At the end of the interview Hill was given one month’s leave. ‘Alas’, recalls Hill, ‘less than a week had passed before I was summoned back to his office once again’.20 On arrival, he found none other than Reilly in C’s room. Reilly’s presence was no doubt the result of his intense lobbying to return to Russia at the first opportunity. On 25 November, for example, he had written to Lockhart to solicit his help and support:
I have told C (and I am anxious that you should know it too) that I consider that there is a very earnest obligation upon me to continue to serve – if my services can be made use of in the question of Russia and Bolshevism. I feel that I have no right to go back to the making of dollars until I have discharged my obligations. I also venture to think that the state should not lose my services. If a halfway decent job would be offered me I would chuck business altogether and devote the rest of my wicked life to this kind of work. C promised to see the FO about all this.21
Five days later, on 30 November, the Foreign Office agreed that two agents should be sent out to the south of Russia under the cover of the British Trade Corporation. Reilly, it was decided, should go, ‘with an assistant of his own choosing’,22 hence Hill’s summons to Whitehall Court. With both Reilly and Hill now before him, C explained that ‘certain important information about the Black Sea coast and South Russia was wanted for the Peace Conference that was to assemble in Paris at the end of the year’. Not only was Hill asked to volunteer to accompany Reilly on this mission to Russia, thereby forfeiting his leave, but was also informed that the Southampton train from Waterloo was departing in two hours time. After some coaxing from C, Hill agreed to go. Reilly had apparently had his passport issued and been briefed on the mission two days before where he ‘got final instructions’ and was told that he would, ‘leave on 12th’.23 Why Hill was called in at such short notice is not clear. His claim to have only been a week into his leave when summoned back may have been in error, however, as according to Reilly’s diary their meeting with C occurred on 12 December.
Several days before the meeting with C, the Izvestia newspaper had reported in Moscow that both Reilly and Lockhart had been sentenced to death in their absence by a Revolutionary Tribunal for their roles in the attempted coup, and that their sentence would be carried out immediately should either of them ever be apprehended on Soviet soil in the future.
Clearly unperturbed by this, no mention appears in Reilly’s diary. The diary does, however, corroborate the fact that Hill was somewhat less than enthusiastic to go. Hill recalls that as they left Whitehall Court that afternoon, ‘Reilly could not bear the leisurely way in which I left the building with him’,24 and quotes him as saying, ‘Hill, I don’t believe you want to catch that train. I bet you fifty pounds you won’t be on it’. As it turned out, Hill caught the train with only seconds to spare. Arriving on the platform he saw Reilly, ‘hanging out the window’ of a first-class compartment halfway up the train. Apparently he ‘paid up like the sportsman he was’. Reilly himself simply recorded in his diary that day, ‘Left at 4.30 p.m. Hill just managed catch train’.
According to Hill, Reilly was ‘extremely keen on the trip’. This may have been down to revelling in his new role as ‘gentleman spy’, or could have been for other reasons. If there was any truth to the story that he had been secreting away a wife and two children in Port Arthur, and then in Petrograd, where better to have moved them than to Odessa? He had maintained close personal and business ties with the city, which was not only free from Bolshevik control, but was an international port and a gateway to other destinations should a further move be necessary.
Arriving in Paris the following day they dined at La Rue in the Boulevard de la Madeleine, the proprietor of which was none other than the former chef at the Café de Paris (known as Kiuba’s) in St Petersburg. Hill recalls they had, ‘a great welcome and a great dinner, with marvellous wine and the oldest brandies served as brandy should be served, in crystal goblets’.25 They then proceeded to the Gare de Lyon to catch the 8 p.m. train to Marseilles. Although occupying a first-class compartment, Reilly records that he had a ‘horrible night’.26 This is hardly surprising, for according to Hill, ‘we were packed liked sardines in a firstclass carriage with people sitting on the floor and along the entire length of the corridor outside the coupes’. The train was not only overcrowded with ordinary passengers but with ‘scores of badly wounded French soldiers on their way from hospital to their homes in the south’.27
Finally arriving in Marseilles at 11 a.m. the next morning they met up with John Picton Bagge, who was returning to his post as Consul-General in Odessa, and John Waite, the former Consul- General in Helsingfors. As merchants, accredited by the Board of Trade, Hill and Reilly, along with Bagge and Waite, boarded the Greek warship Isonzo, bound for Malta. Hill notes that this was not a strange arrangement, as Greek naval ships often carried traders. The Isonzo docked at Valetta at noon on 17 December, where the party stayed overnight. Reilly spent his time in Valetta ‘making purchases’28 and writing to Nadine in New York. At 3 p.m. the following day they set sail for Constantinople on board the Rowan, provoking complaints from Reilly that it was, ‘the dirtiest ship [I] ever saw’.29 After a near miss with a floating mine off the coast of Gallipoli on 22 December, they finally arrived in Constantinople at 8 a.m. the next day, which Reilly described as ‘a lovely sight’.30 After lunch aboard HMS Lord Nelson, as guests of Admiral Calthorpe, commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean Fleet, the final stretch of the journey to Sevastapol was made on the minesweeper Larne. The Larne’s skipper, Cmdr Hilton, clearly struck up a good rapport with Reilly, who found him to be a ‘tremendous chap’.31 They finally stepped ashore on Christmas Eve, and immediately set about arranging meetings.
Reilly and Hill had arrived at a particularly crucial time, for the British government had resolved on 13 November to aid the anti-Bolshevik forces, or Whites as they were known, led by Gen. Anton Denikin. Based in the south of Russia, the hope was that his Volunteer Army might defeat the Bolsheviks by pressing up through the Ukraine and into the heart of Russia, where another White Army, led by Admiral Alexander Kolchak, was advancing from the east.
Christmas Day was, according to Reilly, a very quiet affair, as were the New Year celebrations at the Kuban Club in Ekaterinodar.32 In complete contrast, however, Hill recalls that they celebrated New Year at the Palace Hotel in Rostov, and refers in graphic detail to:
…a large ballroom which had a balcony round it, divided into boxes. In the centre of the ballroom a beautiful fountain played. The tables were thronged by queerly assorted, oddly dressed men and women. Beautiful women wore threadbare blouses, down-at-heel shoes, yet on their fingers displayed rings or on their necks colliers that would have made even a Cartier’s assistant’s mouth water. Others, with the air of duchesses, wore luxurious fur coats, which as a rule they took good care to keep fastened, for in most cases anything worn beneath was scanty and painfully shabby. One girl I especially remember was particularly well dressed, yet she wore hand-knitted socks and bark sandals.33
Reilly and Hill were apparently decked out in full evening dress. Everyone, to Hill’s recollection, seemed to be enjoying themselves although Reilly particularly disliked the ‘old regime formalities’, such as the band’s impromptu habit of striking up numerous national anthems, which obliged all present to stand rigidly to atten-tion. After one such rendition, Hill observed Reilly with interest ‘as he sipped Turkish coffee, took an occasional drink of iced water, and with precision smoked one Russian cigarette after another’.34
Many hours and drinks later, Hill recalls feeling ‘desperately tired’, and making his way to his bedroom where he got into his pyjamas. Faintly, from below, he heard the band playing. Responding to the strains of The Old Hunters’ March, he put on his dressing gown and went downstairs, where ‘something’ possessed him to lead the band and a crowd of revellers on a march ‘up and down the corridors and stairs, into the attics and through the kitchens of the Palace Hotel’.35
Which is the correct recollection? How could they each be in two separate locations, celebrating New Year, when the one thing they do agree on is that they celebrated New Year together? Although an initially perplexing conundrum, the answer is a very simple one. Until the Bolsheviks took power, Russia was using a calendar that was thirteen days behind that used in Britain and indeed most other places in the world. The Bolsheviks decreed that Russia should fall into line with everyone else. The Whites, who controlled the zone Reilly and Hill were in, opposed everything the Bolsheviks did on principle, and stubbornly carried on with the old Russian calendar. Reilly had a small English Letts pocket diary, and recorded all the events which took place while he was in Southern Russia on a daily basis, following on from their departure from London. Rather like the man who does not adjust his watch when moving from one time zone to another, Reilly had simply carried on regardless. Hill, by contrast, was going by the calendar in use in the area at the time, and so a thirteen-day time gap exists between the two sets of recollections. Proof of this theory is to be found in Reilly’s diary, where on the 13 January he refers to ‘great NY celebrations, everyone getting horribly drunk – Hill leading band in dressing gown. Old regime all over’.36
It is equally clear from his diary that Reilly set about his task of collecting information about the Black Sea coast and South Russia with enthusiasm, arranging a whole series of meetings with political and military leaders in the area in order to draft his dispatches. On 27 December he had met Denikin’s Minister for War, Gen. Lukomsky, and had ‘a long conversation’ with him. From his very first report Reilly nailed his colours firmly to Denikin’s mast, stating that ‘the Volunteer Army represents the only concrete dependable force and living symbol of Russian unity’ whose success or failure would be determined by the extent of Allied support.37 On New Year’s Eve he sent off the report along with a letter to Nadine. The New Year celebrations were noted as being very tame.
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 Maplestead 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.