By Francis McCullagh
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Extra info for A Prisoner Of The Reds
Here were armed officers of Kolchak's Army holding a Council of War inside the Red lines, which they had entered by reason of the neglect by the Bolsheviks of the simplest military precautions. A few miles off, on the west, was a large force of Whites, which intended to advance on Krasnoyarsk that night . A few miles off on the east was a Red force, part of which had come to Krasnoyarsk on White echelons without anybody in those echelons having ever suspected them of being Red . Our train was surrounded by Bolshevik guards, who were apparently unable to distinguish between friend and foe.
Around them were the products of an abortive civilization, monstrous fruit of an unnatural union between Scythia and Byzantium, while, outside, the wolves howled in the dark forests of the cold and savage North . Like an infinite stretch of desolate Polar wastes enveloped in winter darkness, save when lighted up at long intervals by awe-inspiring explosions of volcanic energy more sinister than the night itself : such seems to me the terrible story of Muscovy with its gigantic personalities revealed in flaming fire-fire that never came from Heaven-its devastating invasions ; its cataclysmal popular eruptions .
In view of the fact that tens of thousands of Russian children and young women, cast adrift in foreign lands, are now threatened with a fate worse than death, cannot they try to produce a St . Vincent de Paul, a General Booth, a Florence Nightingale ? CHAPTER V FACE TO FACE WITH BOLSHEVISM I HAVE already, I think, mentioned the fact that I have been three times a prisoner of war . Some people contract the habit of getting captured, and apparently I am one of them . On the last occasion when I was captured in war I had been searched very thoroughly, and my captors had been insatiable in their thirst for information, first of all military information about the other side, and then information about myself personally .
A Prisoner Of The Reds by Francis McCullagh