In our latest CUK blog, Rupert Wieloch goes off the beaten tourist trail in St Petersburg to find the fearsome prison of the 15 British prisoners, the subjects of his latest book, and follows their journey to Finland and freedom.
When staying in St Petersburg, it is very hard to resist the temptation to visit the exquisite Winter Palace. However, during this short trip to the “Venice of the North”, my priority is to seek out the hidden places where Churchill’s Abandoned Prisoners were kept before their release in October 1920.
There is very little to help me find these forgotten locations. The story is not known by the efficient Russian guides who cry “one, after one, after one” as they push their charges towards the long queues for the Hermitage Museum and the Church on the Spilled Blood.
Ignoring these well-worn tourist trails, I cross the diaphanous Neva River close to a pair of Egyptian sphinxes. Turning west on Vasilyevsky Island towards the intriguing Museum of Modern Art, the streets suddenly become deserted. I walk past a huge building site and wonder whether all the old buildings have been demolished, but just beyond a modern tower block, an unmistakable edifice, reminiscent of a Victorian red-brick university, appears behind some foreboding iron railings and long grass.
Found. Thrilled. Time for reflection.
This is Pokrovsky Hospital in which the original British Colony Hospital, or BCH, was established by the wife of the British Ambassador soon after the beginning of World War I. It should not be confused with the more famous Anglo-Russian Hospital on Nevsky Prospekt.
Here a group of British medics looked after wounded Russian soldiers for almost three years, until the security situation deteriorated dramatically after the revolution. Most of British doctors and nurses left the city, but the careworn matron, Violet Froom, remained behind to look after those who could not leave, including many British women married to Russians and their children.
For the British soldiers captured at Krasnoyarsk on Russian Christmas Eve and imprisoned in Moscow, the BCH became their “concentration camp”, whilst they waited for the lengthy prisoner exchange to unfold. Soviet officials allowed them more freedom than they had experienced when they were incarcerated in the lice-infested cells of the Ivanovsky prison. Visits to the world-famous Mariinsky theatre helped to whittle away the time. They were even allowed to inspect the late Czarina’s sumptuous apartments, where their intrepid leader, Major Leonard Vining, could not resist playing a few notes on her gold piano which still had a “very sweet tone”.
One week after arriving in St Petersburg, the prisoners were informed they would be sent to the Finnish frontier the next day. They could not sit still that evening and held a thunderous sing-song in the hospital. After thanking their tireless matron, who had acted as “ambassador, parson and everything combined”, they were escorted on a train to Bielo’ostrov where Vining hired a couple of carts to carry their baggage to the border, marked by the Sestro River. They had to smuggle Teddy, their dog, past the customs post in a kit-bag and sang “Tipperary” at the top of their voices to drown out his complaining yelps.
Here they were met by a British representative and were taken by sleigh to a quarantine camp overlooking Kronstadt Island. This was formerly a collection of wooden summer houses, or dachas, owned by the rich and famous from St Petersburg and it was my next destination in the footsteps of the forlorn prisoners.
After thanking the friendly staff at the Prince George Galitzine Memorial Library, who helped me research the story, I followed the railway line that connected St Petersburg with Helsinki. We passed the impressive Krestovsky Stadium where England played their final match of the 2018 World Cup against Belgium and the Gazprom tower next to the new road linking the mainland with Kronstadt. A beautiful lake and park marked the former frontier and our turning point to a forested area just south of Repino.
An air of tranquillity pervades the coastline and it is easy to understand why so many Russians enjoy connecting to nature on the sands of the northern Baltic. There are few markings on the houses, but I am able to walk along the shore where the prisoners stayed and pay tribute to their courage and resilience. Even in May, the Gulf of Finland is bracing, but for the British soldiers in November 1920, it was bitterly cold. They had little to do other than write letters complaining about the delay whilst they waited for the diplomatic protocols to be completed. Finally, they were released on17th November, more than one year after they were abandoned by the British Army in Omsk. They travelled to Helsinki, where they were picked up by Admiral Fergusson in HMS Delhi and sailed for home.
I discuss their plight with a Russian over a delicious lunch of fish and kasha in Nasha Dacha, a delightful restaurant housed in one of the original buildings on the shore. Russians know their history but are keen to look forward and not to live in the past. I found them to be extremely friendly and helpful on this tribute visit and return home with never-to-be-forgotten memories.
Discover more about the last fifteen POWs of World War I in Churchill’s Abandoned Prisoners, available now.
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