The LeRoulle Expedition: Sinister Purpose
Cheka Officer conducting an interrogation
Viktor Mikhailov looked in the eyes of the terrified militiaman he had tied to the chair. He took a leisurely drag from the foul cigarette and exhaled the smoke into the man’s face. The militiaman wasn’t even particularly deserving of that name as he appeared about seventeen. Viktor looked into the terrified boy’s eyes and the captive squirmed. “Explain to me again comrade,” he said slowly, “why did you decide not to investigate the shots you heard coming from the Governor-General’s Palace?” The boy tried to turn his head away, but Viktor slipped his gloved hand around the boy’s chin, rubbing the half grown and patchy stubble covering his face and gently turned it towards him. “Look at me while you speak to me Comrade,” he whispered icily. The boy began to sputter “C-c-c-comrade I-I-I was I was drinking and, and, I-I thought that some of the guards were shooting into the, the, the air.” Finishing his sentence, the boy looked down in shame. “This is most serious Comrade, drinking on duty and failing to do one’s duty are both serious offenses, betrayals of the revolution in fact,” he said, his voice full of mock sympathy. “You do know the punishment for betrayal of the Workers’ and Peasants’ Revolution is, do you not?” He asked casually, removing his revolver from his holster and checking the barrel. “Please Comrade!” the boy screamed, flailing with terror, “I did not intend for any of this! I have a mother and a father! Please!” Viktor slowly pointed the weapon at the screaming boy and raised the hammer. His finger curled around the trigger and slowly pulled back and the hammer came crashing down. The click was scarcely heard over the scream of the boy. Viktor replaced his weapon and looked at the boy and his urine soaked pants. “Untie this sorry sack of s**t and let’s get moving” he said, dropping the cigarette to the floor and crushing it with his heel. As the Cheka men left the room, the militiaman began to sob quietly.
From
The Autocrat and the American: The LeRoulle Expedition:
“The Cheka was already in pursuit of LeRoulle and his forces, but even without that danger, the sheer lawlessness of Russia made the entire expedition incredibly dangerous, moreover, there simply was not enough space in the Expedition’s single wagon to fit all of the mercenaries and the Royal Family for a long trip. In three days they had passed through Uval, slightly to the north of Tobolsk. Soon they would have to find more transportation, but the answer would fall into their lap, only four miles outside of Tobolsk, they ran into a group of Social Revolutionary partisans with a commandeered ox-cart.”
Partisans of the type encountered by LeRoulle's forces
Charles LeRoulle looked at Cohen who had just finished loading his M1917. It was lucky that the SRs hadn’t started shooting at the sight of the wagon, but if the even got a glimpse of the Royals, everyone in the wagon would be dead. The Partisans were only twenty yards away and closing at a respectable trot. The Royals were huddling in the center of the wagon, Anastasia clutched at her spaniel which was looking as frightened as its owner. Indeed, the Royals had been very quiet the entire trip, speaking only to each-other in very low voices, but they had been cooperative and had not seemed to mind their diminished circumstances. LeRoulle and a few others hopped out of the wagon, which began to turn broadside to the advancing unit. The partisans slowed their advance slightly to a loping sort of amble, lowering their weapons at the sight of what appeared to be fellow revolutionaries. LeRoulle nodded slightly and suddenly the fabric covering the wagon dropped, revealing five riflemen and Cohen sitting at his machine gun, a maniacal grin spreading from ear to ear. In a split second the partisans began dropping as the mercenaries’ bullets found their marks. Cohen’s M1917 cut down a group of seven men who had been warming themselves by the fire. In under a minute, the entire troop of SR partisans had been dispatched. LeRoulle looked at the oxcart which the partisans had filled with weapons, preserved food and vodka. He smiled a little, turned to his compatriots and said “I have found our chariot!” before sending two of his men off to find the oxen.
The next morning, Viktor Mikhailov stood in the center of the abandoned fire-pit. “Damn,” he muttered, “they have a machine gun too.” He extinguished his cigarette and stared at the bodies. He made up his mind to commandeer a platoon of cavalry, this job would not be easy.
@Agent Larkin: Yeah basically (That comment was the best thing to come out of this AAR)