Light Cavalry Action Page 6

Murray-Hughes smiled with becoming modesty. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘As a newspaper writer, as a radio commentator, and as the author of several well-known and respected books on the international situation?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘And your first assignment in this line was in Russia in 1919 where your job was to report the civil war that was taking place in that country at that time?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘And you found yourself at the headquarters of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Prideaux, at that time plain Colonel Prideaux?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please tell the court what the situation was when you arrived.’

  Murray-Hughes fingered his tie for a moment and stared thoughtfully in front of him.

  ‘Fatter,’ Potter whispered to Higgins. ‘Fatter, but, my God, he looks distinguished.’

  Murray-Hughes was talking now, in clearly enunciated words that came from years of talking down telephones to foreign editors and into microphones at Broadcasting House.

  ‘The White anti-Communist armies were already beginning to show signs of disintegration when I arrived,’ he said. ‘But Colonel Prideaux’s unit was smart and looked efficient.’

  ‘You wrote an article on it, I believe, and sent it to your paper?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  Kirkham handed up several typed sheets of paper. ‘Would that be a copy of it?’ he asked.

  Murray-Hughes nodded. ‘That’s the one. I remember it well.’

  ‘“British Officer Makes Soldiers Out Of Peasants,”’ Kirkham read. ‘That’s one of the headlines, I notice. Would you say that was a fair comment on Colonel Prideaux’s achievement?’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘What would you say the reactions were to Colonel Prideaux from his officers, however?’

  ‘They seemed to dislike him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I would say it was simply that they had got into the somewhat easy-going manner of war that had existed in France. Colonel Prideaux, I know, was keen to bring back a little of the smartness of the pre-war British Army.’

  Kirkham appeared to agree. ‘I see. Now, let us go back to a date not long before Christmas, 1919. November 3rd, to be exact. This was about the time when I think certain Russian troops had murdered their British officers in their beds and Canadian elements in Russia also seemed to be touched with the same disaffection. Do you remember the period?’

  ‘Very well indeed. That was the occasion when certain of the Russians in the Slavska Barracks and a small group of disaffected Englishmen mutinied.’

  ‘Against Colonel Prideaux?’

  Murray-Hughes shook his head. ‘Colonel Prideaux wasn’t there at the time. Major Higgins was in command.’

  ‘I see.’ Kirkham looked pleased. ‘What happened? You, I believe, stumbled on the mutiny by accident?’

  ‘That’s right. I had been north to the front and I returned to the barracks unexpectedly. As I entered the gateway, I saw a scuffle going on near the guardroom where one of the Russian squadrons had the guard that night. I was in shadow and couldn’t be seen and I realised that something dreadful was happening. Then, in the light from the doorway, I saw one of the Russian officers stagger out, with blood on his head, and a Russian corporal ran after him and cut him down with a sabre.’

  There was a visible shudder among the fashionable hats in the gallery and Kirkham allowed it to subside before continuing.

  ‘Was this unexpected?’ he asked.

  Murray-Hughes shook his head. ‘Not really, I suppose,’ he said. ‘We’d all been a little nervous for some time because of the British officers being murdered further to the north. I realised that if something weren’t done rapidly we’d suffer the same fate.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I immediately found Major Higgins and Captain Potter and informed them of what I’d seen.’

  ‘Where were they?’

  ‘They were at a house not far away owned by a Russian woman, drinking and…’

  ‘Just a moment!’ Kirkham’s sharp words stopped Murray-Hughes.

  There was a long silence while he let it sink in. ‘They were drinking. At a house owned by a Russian woman,’ he repeated slowly.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I see. Continue. I just wanted to be certain where they were. At least, we know they weren’t on duty at the barracks.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Major Higgins and Captain Potter and Captain MacAdoo jumped into the cars…’

  ‘These cars Major Higgins was so fond of?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And instead of using them as armoured cars, as has been suggested, they were using them to transport themselves from one place to another?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Please continue.’

  ‘Well,’ Murray-Hughes gestured, ‘we drove to the barracks. It was obvious the Russians had control of the guardroom. There was quite a crowd around. I went over the wall and found where the British sergeant-major was sleeping, and woke him.’

  ‘You went over the wall? Not Major Higgins or Captain Potter or Captain MacAdoo?’

  ‘No. They remained with the cars. I told the sergeant-major what had happened and he roused the British troopers, and they turned out with rifles. Machine guns were mounted and the mutiny was put down. Nobody was shot but several men were put on charges.’

  ‘Of mutiny?’

  ‘No. Insubordination or something. I don’t remember.’

  ‘Insubordination?’ Kirkham looked shocked. ‘We have heard a man was murdered, yet they were only put on charges of insubordination? That seems a very half-hearted way of dealing with the affair. What happened?’

  ‘Colonel Prideaux arrived soon afterwards and changed the charge to one of mutiny and ordered a court martial.’

  ‘And the men were brought to trial?’

  ‘No.’ Murray-Hughes shook his head. ‘The following day, news was received of Budenny’s advance and we left the town to meet him. When we returned, the prisoners had disappeared. It’s all in the report I sent to the paper.’

  Kirkham looked up at Godliman. ‘I have it here, milord, and you, I believe, have a copy. It speaks for itself. The jury will be able to see it. It is a long report. “Russian Attempt At Mutiny Crushed.” That is the headline.’

  Godliman nodded and Kirkham went on. ‘We come now to the charge itself,’ he said, turning back to the witness. ‘You were present, I believe, on that historic occasion?’

  Murray-Hughes smiled modestly. ‘Yes, I was,’ he said.

  ‘Did you actually see Colonel Prideaux move forward with his troops?’

  ‘Yes. We had heard rumours that Budenny’s cavalry was advancing on the town and we rode out with the Russians to meet them.’

  ‘You were armed, too?’

  ‘Unofficially. To defend myself. I had a revolver. I had borrowed one of the remounts and was riding just behind Colonel Prideaux.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He advised me what was likely to happen and suggested I went to the rear.’

  ‘Did you go?’

  ‘No.’ Murray-Hughes made a little moue of modesty. ‘The charge started. I went with it. That’s all. Later I wrote about it.’

  Godliman looked up quickly. ‘I have that report, too, Sir Gordon,’ he said, somewhat dryly as Kirkham began to reach across the table in front of him. He held up a sheet of paper. ‘“British Cavalry’s Balaclava Action,” it is headed. “Gallant Sacrifice To Protect Refugees. Correspondent Rides In Charge.”’ He stared at Murray-Hughes. ‘You bid fair to emulate Mr. Winston Churchill,’ he commented. ‘It was a habit of his to get involved with the Military while representing the Press.’

  Murray-Hughes smiled, pleased at the comment.

  ‘Please continue.’

  Kirkham bowed. ‘What happened afterwards, Mr. Murray-Hughes?’ he asked.

  Murray
-Hughes gestured uncertainly. ‘I’m a little vague,’ he said. ‘It all happened so fast. One moment I was with Colonel Prideaux and the next I seemed to be surrounded by Bolsheviks and shots were being fired at me. Then I found myself alone and out of touch with the rest of the British troops. Fortunately, it was late afternoon when the action took place and, soon afterwards, it became dark and I was able to make my way round the Bolsheviks and later managed to join a group under Captain Potter.’

  * * *

  As Kirkham sat down, Moyalan rose slowly. He stared at Murray-Hughes as though he disliked him.

  ‘So you managed to make your way round the Russians and later joined up with Captain Potter?’ he said. ‘Did you then make your way back to Nikolovssk?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What did you do on your return to Nikolovssk?’

  Murray-Hughes moved his shoulders. ‘My job seemed to have finished there,’ he said. ‘The obvious thing was to get to the coast. It was clear there was going to be a retreat – a rout, you might almost say – and I could do little else. It was not my job as a civilian to get in the way or get myself captured. I made my way down to Novorossiisk from where I was evacuated to England.’

  ‘On a similar occasion in South Africa,’ Moyalan pointed out silkily, ‘Mr, Winston Churchill didn’t consider it his job to avoid being taken prisoner. He stayed behind to see the wounded safely away under fire, and remained behind himself to be captured.’

  Murray-Hughes shifted uneasily before his gaze as the court became silent. ‘I had a job to do,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I was representing a newspaper.’

  ‘So was Mr. Churchill.’

  Moyalan held up his hand as Murray-Hughes prepared to explain, and went on quietly. ‘Never mind, Mr. Murray-Hughes,’ he said. ‘It isn’t important and I don’t intend to pursue the matter.’

  He looked up again at the witness, whose expression was suddenly wary. ‘We’ve heard,’ Moyalan began, ‘that Colonel Prideaux’s career took a sharp upward turn after the action at Dankoi. He had been noticed, and from then on his superiors were aware of him. Would it be true to say the same of your career?’

  Murray-Hughes hesitated, and Moyalan went on.

  ‘Put it this way,’ he suggested. ‘Immediately afterwards, I believe, you were sent to cover the civil war that was breaking out in China?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A very important assignment for a young man?’

  ‘Yes. Very.’

  ‘With a considerable jump in salary?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And from then on you covered all the major wars about the globe, culminating in the Abyssinian War and the recent Spanish Civil War – for all of which you have been very highly paid?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose so.’

  ‘And in the event of another war breaking out – which, in the words of my learned friend, God forbid! – you would again be called upon?’

  ‘Yes. I expect so.’

  ‘Yet…’ Moyalan paused ‘…before Dankoi, you were unknown. Russia was your big chance, was it not?’

  ‘I suppose so. Yes.’

  ‘Then it might truly be said, as I have suggested, that your career also took a turn for the better after Dankoi?’

  Murray-Hughes shifted restlessly. ‘I suppose so,’ he agreed. ‘Yes.’

  Moyalan paused, flicking his papers before he went on.

  ‘We have heard in this court,’ he said, ‘a lot about the reports which you sent to your newspaper on these incidents at Nikolovssk, but we are, it seems to me, presupposing that they are all exact as to detail…’

  Kirkham jumped to his feet. ‘Milord, there is no suggestion whatsoever that Mr. Murray-Hughes has distorted the truth!’

  Moyalan waited until he had sat down again, then he spoke slowly. ‘We have to remember, my lord,’ he said, ‘that this was the witness’s first foreign assignment. We have his own evidence to that effect. Quite naturally, he would be anxious to make a good job of it. He was young and eager. In his eagerness, would it not be possible for him to paint pinks red and blues purple? Would not greys become harsh black and white? But this is a court of law and more exacting than a newspaper office and, since the reports have been brought up, we have to consider them. They have a great bearing on the case.’

  Godliman leaned forward from the bench. ‘This seems a reasonable argument, Sir Gordon,’ he said to Kirkham. ‘I cannot over-rule Mr. Moyalan at this stage. On the other hand, Mr. Moyalan, if you are throwing doubt on these accounts, we must have evidence to that effect.’

  Moyalan bowed. ‘I propose to bring it, my lord.’

  The judge made a gesture of assent and Moyalan turned again to the man in the witness box. ‘Now, Mr. Murray-Hughes,’ he began. ‘You have said in this court that the reason Colonel Prideaux’s officers didn’t like him was because he was trying to bring back some of the British Army’s pre-war smartness.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But, in fact, was not this pre-war British Army smartness he was trying to bring back being forced upon ill-educated Russian peasant volunteers who were in the midst of a violent civil war, in which they were never sure whom they could trust?’

  Murray-Hughes looked uncomfortable and Moyalan waved his hand.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Let us go on. You were allowed to use Colonel Prideaux’s facilities for signalling – his signallers, his runners, his priorities?’

  ‘That’s correct.’ Murray-Hughes recovered quickly. ‘The telegraph system was rather crude and was mostly run by the station staffs, with a British signaller under the British station officer, Captain Barry. Colonel Prideaux naturally had certain priorities which I was allowed to use.’ Moyalan paused, his face expressionless, then his eyes gleamed. ‘Let’s go into this procedure of sending a report,’ he suggested. ‘When you wrote a report it was despatched through army channels via the office of Captain Barry. Is that so?’

  ‘At the time there was no other way.’

  ‘No. But, of course, nothing could go through army channels unless it was first cleared. You were using army procedure and machinery and, therefore, you had to submit your messages to someone to be cleared?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Who cleared your messages?’

  ‘Colonel Prideaux or Major Finch.’

  ‘Therefore, if the Colonel or his assistant were seeing your reports, I would be right in saying that it would have been extremely foolish of you to say anything else but that Colonel Prideaux was a first-rate officer. If you had said anything else, he could have closed the communications channels to you. And these channels were extremely important to you and your paper, were they not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Therefore criticism would have been foolish, would it not?’

  Kirkham was on his feet again, but Moyalan waved one hand at him without turning his head.

  ‘My learned friend brought this into the evidence, my lord,’ he pointed out. ‘He has no right to complain when I question it.’

  Kirkham sat down slowly.

  ‘Am I right, Mr. Murray-Hughes?’

  Murray-Hughes nodded slowly. ‘Yes. But, in fact, that wasn’t the case.’

  ‘No. Not quite. I shall endeavour to show just what was the case. Now, Mr. Murray-Hughes – how many troops would you say were involved on your side at Dankoi?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Your book refers to the fact that in the Slavska Barracks there were the Kouragine Hussars, an artillery regiment, a regiment of infantry, and three companies of engineers, and that in the town available there were also five or six other regiments of infantry. That’s a lot of men. Getting on for ten thousand, I imagine?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were they all present at Dankoi?’

  ‘If I said so in my report, then that is so.’

  Moyalan held up a hand. ‘But you don’t say so, Mr. Murray-Hughes,’ he pointed out quietly. ‘You mention the regiments in the barrack
s and you mention the other troops – as being “available.” You don’t mention that any of them took part in the battle.’

  ‘They must have done.’

  ‘Must they?’

  ‘They were available.’

  Moyalan smiled. ‘Mr. Murray-Hughes,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve not been a soldier but I know that “available” is not the same thing as “in action.” Which were these troops? “Available” or “in action”?’

  ‘I can’t remember. In action, I imagine. I can’t recall which were and which were not. Not after all these years.’

  ‘I see. Very well. Now, Mr. Murray-Hughes, we’ve heard something about a horse that you rode. What was this horse called?’

  Murray-Hughes’ eyebrows shot up. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, startled. ‘I had no occasion to address it by name.’ There was a murmur of laughter and Murray-Hughes looked pleased, but Moyalan was not perturbed.

  ‘Did you never hear a name?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose I must have. But I imagine it was Russian and this is why I don’t remember.’

  ‘Put it this way, then, Mr. Murray-Hughes: This horse of yours had a second name – an English name, I believe. Do you remember that? It was a name given to it by exasperated British soldiers. Do you recall it?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Was it “Crackpot”?’

  There was another murmur of laughter but it died away quickly as Moyalan pressed on. ‘Was it?’ he persisted.

  ‘I believe it was, as a matter of fact,’ Murray-Hughes agreed.

  ‘That’s a strange name for a cavalry charger. Why was it so called?’

  ‘I think it was a little mad. I seem to remember most people thought so, anyway.’

  ‘And what form did this madness take?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Let me help you. My information is that it was badly behaved.’

  Kirkham rose slowly, an exasperated expression on his face. ‘My lord, do we really have to discuss Mr. Murray-Hughes’ horse?’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Moyalan snapped.

  Godliman leaned forward. ‘I take it there is a reason, Mr. Moyalan.’

  ‘I shall endeavour to show one, my lord.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Moyalan fiddled with his papers for a moment as Kirkham sat down then he addressed Murray-Hughes again. ‘Let us go on,’ he said. ‘Was this horse you were in the habit of riding badly behaved?’