Виктор Королев
The Life and Surprizing Adventures of Archibald Kerr, British Diplomat

‘You know he was born crippled, with a dry arm and a crooked neck? That he had an oedipal complex? All his teenage sexual dreams he transferred to his mother and even tried to make her, the daughter of the British Queen, his mistress! He's a terrible man, Archie! The more his mother tried to convince him, that it was wrong, the more he hated everything English. It was his fault she had died so young. His malice has no bounds. Believe he will soon bring Germany to a terrible war with everyone, including England. My brother fancies himself a great warrior and general, he does not get off his horse, and several times a day dressed in different uniforms – he is supposed to command artillery, fleet, and cavalry. And have you seen his helmet?’

‘I saw it,’ Kerr said, trying to remember everything.

‘Not the other one. He has ordered a helmet of pure gold, and wears it when he receives kings and emperors of the highest order. He fancied himself master of the world. It's awful! And yet, Archie, he has nothing to say against it, no one has the right to argue with him. He is sure that the Kaiser of Germany is never mistaken, that his wife and all relatives are beyond suspicion, like angels in the flesh. He was sure of it until he got slapped in the face with this sex scandal…’

‘Not understand. What scandal?’

‘You don't know?! It was a universal fall from grace. All the Newspapers wrote! Look… It was like this. At the beginning of 1891, ladies and gentlemen-fifteen in number, all of blue blood – were sledding in the vicinity of Berlin. And then they came to the hunting castle, threw off their fur coats, drove away the servants, got drunk – and it began! It was a grand orgy. Intimate places they slightly covered with leaves of a Fig tree, and even without them did. Couples changed in a circle. There was all that Bohemia could do in her disorderly fancy. Do you know what Bohemia is, Archie?’

‘Translated from French it seems to be Gypsies,’ said Kerr.

‘That's right! Can you imagine a whole camp of princes and princesses making love? And same sex love too. And after all for same-sex sex have us incarcerate, as and in of England…’

She smelled strongly of cologne, wine and figs… “High, high relations,” Kerr thought. He almost asked: “Were you there too, Your Highness?” But he bit his tongue in time.

‘It would have been all right, Archie, but a few days after the party anonymous letters began to arrive with details of the orgy. Everyone got hurt. Then the letters began to receive uninvolved persons: politicians, journalists, aristocrats, relatives. Even the Empress Dowager, mother of both Wilhelm and my, received several such letters. Everyone was just in shock, each was afraid that his name would be mentioned in the next letter.’

‘What did the anonymous blackmailer demand?’

‘That's just it, he didn't ask for anything. He was just giving away intimate secrets. And it is not known whether it was “he” or “she”. Examination established that the handwriting, rather, female. Suspicion fell on my older sister Charlotte, but she herself received many of these offensive anonymous letters. Can you imagine how mad our brother was?’

‘I'm sure the Kaiser ordered an immediate investigation to find the culprit!’

‘What's the use? Letters have been coming for years. Imagine, for years! And in each letter were juicy details from the personal life of someone from the Imperial family. The secret police arrested anyone who might have had anything to do with it. Many people were arrested and released. Everyone quarreled with each other. Several duels were fatal. Ah, the authority of the monarchy is undermined! Ah, the Emperor and his court live by a double morality! Still the echoes of this scandal can be heard…’

‘So they found the scoundrel?’

‘Found. My sister Charlotte once lost her diary, and in it she wrote down everything-all the secrets and even her own fantasies. This diary fell into the hands of the blackmailer. Wilhelm banished him from the country.’

Sophie at parting embraced Kerr.

‘Archie, dear Archie, never keep diaries; they have a fatal tendency to be read by other people! Will you find your way back?’

The next morning they met before Breakfast in the rainsoaked garden. Sophie was not alone; her older sister, Charlotte, was sitting beside her. Sophie seemed to be telling her something funny, for her sister laughed incessantly, opening her mouth ugly.

A few hours later Sophie left for Athens. They parted good friends.

When Kerr returned home, he wanted to write down in his diary his thoughts on the events of the last hours. He felt guilty for some reason. The whole thing looked very strange. It was a horrible mixture of delight and disappointment, joy and emptiness at the same time. He had no other words. He remembered the hot whisper of the Princess: “Never keep a diary!” And he laid down his pen.

A few days later he wrote in a treasured notebook: “Berlin demolishes all the masculinity of a person and makes him a kind of asexual medusa. I’m imbued with an unspeakable hatred of Berlin.”

To Princess Sophie this hatred did not apply. He still thought of her with warmth and tenderness. They would meet again in 1914. The last summer before the war Kerr will spend on a cruise in the Mediterranean, and in Athens he will pay a friendly visit to the house of the King of Greece, or rather his wife.

Queen Sophie was heartily glad to see him and held out her hand. They sat for a while on a soft Sofa in the shade of an old Fig tree. Then, as she had six years before, she led him by the hand into the Palace. In the ornate hall she showed a novelty – a portable gramophone. Smiling affectionately, she put on a record.

‘That's Tine Rossi – a charming voice, is not it? Remember our tango in Berlin?’

‘Of course I do,’ Kerr said. ‘I have a professional memory.’

Chapter 4
What can you do make for victory?

Before Easter 1910, Archibald Kerr finally said goodbye to Berlin. A decade later, he sadly wrote in his diary: “I think that I did not pay enough attention to official Affairs, I spent too much time on different meetings, and I should have been more serious in Berlin. It’s clear that today I cannot change anything…”

However, the Ministry of foreign Affairs officially stated that Kerr was the most conscientious and hardworking employee while working in Germany. In any case, over the years he has accumulated experience, increased self-esteem and confidence in the right choice of profession, as well as the ability to apply diplomatic charm to the envy of friends and enemies.

His new assignment in Buenos Aires was very short. Kerr didn't even have time to look around and understand his responsibilities. He had come to the endlessly bustling, manyvoiced city, noisily celebrating the centenary of freedom, and at the first opportunity had gone to the shores of La Plata to take a break from the constant noise. He did not succeed. Early in the morning he was awakened by the neighing of a horse and shouts near the tent.

‘Mr. Kerr! I'm looking for Mr. Archibald Kerr!’

He had to get dressed and leave the tent.

‘There's an urgent telegram for you!’

The postman, still on his horse, handed him the yellow paper.

‘Please accept my condolences!’

He put two fingers to the peak of his uniform cap and rode away.

The message from Sydney was short: “Father died on the twenty-second. Please come. The funeral will take place on the twenty-seventh.”

It was a heavy blow. Archie hadn't seen his father in ten years, but he felt his father's concern and pride in his diplomat son. And now his father was gone. Father's gone forever now, and there's nothing you can do.

The Ministry sincerely sympathized and gave additional leave, so that Kerr could remain in Australia until the spring. During this time he tried to calm his mother and did another important thing. A difficult relationship with Australian relatives forced him to change his surname. Since 1911, he officially became known by another name – Archibald John Kerr. With small correction: the first its name of Archibald he always liked much more second. So it goes from the beginning of our story.

In March, Archie Kerr returned to duty. However it was not Argentina. He was assigned to the British mission in Washington. At the time, there were only nine diplomats under the liberal James Bryce, a completely unique personality.

Bryce was in his seventies. He was Scottish, too. And he, too, after the community colleges raised their education in the German and French universities. He and Kerr had a lot in common. And the difference is one – in age.

‘I could adopt you, Archie,’ Bryce said, smiling. ‘But I see my task in having time to convey to you, such an ambitious and talented person, the accumulated knowledge and understanding of life.’

Bryce was an expert in everything. His student works on the history of the Roman Empire received first places at the University. He was a brilliant jurist. By the time he was Kerr's age, He was head of the civil law Department at Oxford. He knew several languages. He traveled a lot, was engaged in mountaineering. He conquered many mountain peaks. And when he came down from Ararat, he claimed to have seen the remains of Noah's ark. No one believed him then, but in vain – it was there, in a completely inaccessible place, a century later the nose of an ancient ship will be seen from an airplane…

‘Would you like to travel with me to Russia, young man? Are you tempted to ride on the Trans-Siberian railway through this huge and mysterious country?’

Archibald didn't know what to say.

‘Maybe some other time.’

‘I hope you'll have the opportunity later. Don't miss it!’

In the eyes of the young diplomat, Bryce was not a boss, he was a real hero. Kerr admired his intelligence and eccentricity, especially his habit of beginning every morning with a dictionary of the country in which he was or where he was going.

‘A diplomat must know foreign languages. Read ten or twenty pages of someone else's dictionary every morning,’ the old Professor advised. ‘Let you remember nothing – but when it is necessary, the brain itself will pull out the right words from the subconscious. To understand someone else's speech is very important for a diplomat.’

One year has passed. James Bryce went to the Far East. Without such a teacher, Kerr was suddenly lonely. Other friends in this small collective at it and did not appear. Everyone now had to work almost for days. Fortunately, it was holiday time, and Kerr left for London.

At last there was his long-awaited meeting with his mother. He wrote letters to her almost daily, worried, anxious to make sure she was well and happy. This love for his mother was celebrated by all who knew Kerr.

One day he went to the Ministry. On the steps of the wide staircase he almost collided with a man in a magnificent dress uniform. His doublet without epaulette was embroidered with gold stitches; a long row of buttons spoke of the high status of an official. The dazzling white stockings were tight, the pantaloons and gloves perfectly white. A sword with an expensive hilt on the left side, sparkling buckles on patent leather shoes. Who is it?

‘Good afternoon, sir.’ Kerr respectfully removed his bowler hat.

The stranger stopped.

‘Archibald! Good to see you, my young friend! How are you? How is your mother?’

Oh, my God! This is Walter Townley, his former superior, who was envoy to Argentina and met Kerr in Buenos Aires. They had not known each other well at the time, but when the telegram came that his father was dead, Townley had helped a great deal to get Archibald to the funeral and to do all the necessary work in far-off Australia.

Even now he was brief and matter-of-fact. Asked directly:

‘I've been appointed envoy to Teheran – would you like to join me?’

Kerr agreed at once, and they went up to the secretariat. Girls for a long time there was not. The mustachioed clerk spoke to Townley with great deference, and asked Kerr to come the next day. Kerr did so.

The clerk did not even rise when Archibald entered the room. Without looking into his eyes, he spoke slowly and even casually:

‘The Minister has the impression that you seem somewhat inclined to change positions too quickly…’

Kerr was furious. How so?! He had only three positions in six years, especially since he left Argentina because of circumstances beyond his control. But he could only sulk and suffer. He must return to Washington. Walter Townley hugged him when he came to say goodbye:

‘Don't worry, Archie. My offer remains in force. Persia will not run away from you.’

Another year passed. In February 1914 he finally became second Secretary and would be transferred to Europe. So Kerr's last peaceful vacation was on a Mediterranean cruise. The news of the war he received in the Chancery of the Embassy in Rome.

No one could understand why the turmoil in the Balkans had so quickly turned into the conflagration of a world war. And more than once Kerr had to remember that night with Princess Sophie, her whisper:

‘My Brother Wilhelm's malice has no bounds. Believe, soon he will bring Germany to a terrible war with all, including England.’

At all intersections hung posters “What can you do make for victory?” It seemed to Kerr that the soldier with the rifle asked him personally: “Have you already signed up as a volunteer?” Right on the streets were opened points where they recorded those wishing to fight. Dozens of men stood in front of the tables. Also Robin, Kerr's older brother, wrote that he had enlisted as a captain in the 7th battalion of the Scottish Chasseurs. That was the last straw. Archibald decided: I should be with them, military interpreters are very necessary, since so many countries are involved in the war.

The military attache in Rome wrote a petition to the Foreign Office on his behalf, but the Ministry said there was no clear rules yet on which diplomats could enlist and which could not; if the Ambassador dispensed with a second Secretary, there was a chance. The Ambassador replied harshly:

‘Our Embassy is understaffed. Later, you'll thank me for keeping you alive. The only thing I can concede – I will agree in your transfer to another country…’

Kerr did not accuse the chief of cowardice. He just submitted his resignation. However, the Foreign Office was not so easy to beat. It was unclear why they clung to him, but it was said that if he resigned, the Ministry would see to it that he did not go to the front, and ensure that he would not be taken into the army. It was a dead end. It remained to agree to an Embassy in Teheran.

Chapter 5
“The West remained a stranger,East is not my East…”

Archibald wrote bitterly to his mother: “Appointed to Teheran. Accepted under pressure.” The way the Ministry had treated him had hurt Kerr deeply. He felt hurt, betrayed.

In this black mood he returned to London. He was lucky to have met old friends, to have been invited to dinner at the Admiralty, where he told the first Lord Winston Churchill, over a cigar, of his desire to fight. He promised to do what he could. But to promise – not to marry, nothing that did not. Kerr must go to Teheran.

He reached Persia by circuitous routes, through several countries. Walter Townley, noticeably older, was cordial and brief, and laid out his cards at once:

‘Officially, Persia is neutral. But while there is no change on the Western front, a major fire is breaking out here in ancient Mesopotamia. Turkey presses from all sides, Russia dreams of seizing the Straits, the local tribes are bought by German spies, and the Teheran government is helpless. We're sitting on a powder keg. So get down to business with your sleeves rolled up.’

The plight of the small British mission in Tehran became even direr after the Foreign Office unexpectedly replaced Townley with Charles Marling. The new envoy immediately criticized everything that had been done before him – all contacts, agreements, and plans. He made elaborate mockery of the Persian officials, insulting them to their faces. Everything that was built was broken. It is clear that Archibald could not accept such ignorant and stupid leadership. His heart and mind were on the Western front, and certainly not in the sands of Mesopotamia.

Kerr's relationship with Marling deteriorated when the Turks left Basra: the British landing force, supported by the ironclad and gunboats, was rapidly moving south to the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates. The envoy was triumphant, as if he had personally planned and carried out this military operation. Marling's triumph, however, was short-lived.

At the end of November, 1915, not having reached thirty kilometers to Baghdad, the expeditionary corps suffered the most severe defeat. The Turks utterly defeated the British. The remnants of their regiments withdrew to El-Kut, where they had to spend Christmas almost completely surrounded.

To help the besieged from Basra moved powerful reinforcements, the fighting was terrible, and they lasted for weeks. The troops of His Majesty King George V could not advance a mile. Losses numbered in the thousands. The situation of those who remained in El-Kut became deplorable.

They had no food, no water, and no ammunition. Half the defenders were mowed down by malaria. And then the British command turned to the allies. Russian help came quickly…

The order for Esaul Basil Gamaly was brief: not later than fourteen days to connect with the British troops in the area of Basra. The purpose of the Raid: to create the impression that the enemy hundred Kuban Cossacks – is the head watch of a large Russian group, rushing to the aid of the British allies.

There are two routes to Basra. One is through a valley where food and forage are plentiful, but full of hostile tribes. The second is shorter-through the desert, which the local nomads called the Valley of death. Gamaly after the council with the conductors chose him.

From the first day the hundred had to engage in numerous battles. They were aided by the fifty thousand Russian rubles, the gold Persian money, and the ten thousand pounds sterling from the British representative.

Avoiding meetings with local bandits, a hundred a bit deviated from route, managed to replenish supplies of food and drinking water and disappeared in the dunes Valleys of death.

All the oases in the desert were occupied by Turkish infantry, the caravan trails were controlled by cavalry on the ground and airplanes from the air. Driving them away with machine-gun fire, cutting down enemy ambushes, the Cossacks steadily approached the goal. They lost only eight men.

The unprecedented March of a thousand miles through the rear of the Turkish army was completed not in fourteen, but in ten days. This allowed the British to gain time. Gathering their strength, they quickly drove the Turks from the Tigris river valley.

The Russian high command highly appreciated this Cossack Raid. For his courage and bravery, Gamaly was awarded the order of St. George, 4th degree, the officers of the detachment – gold weapons, all lower ranks – St. George crosses. This was the second time in the history of the Russian Empire, when the heroism of an entire unit was celebrated with St. George's awards (the first was the crew of the cruiser “Varyag”).

The British side had to respond. His Majesty George V ordered to award military orders of the United Kingdom the most distinguished Cossacks. They were to be handed over by the envoy extraordinary and Plenipotentiary. Seeing that Marling was afraid to go to the army, Kerr volunteered to present the orders. The Ambassador gladly agreed, and even allowed his second Secretary to stay for a while with the allies as an observer.

It was freedom. This was what the Cossacks sing about in their songs, Smoking a pipe with Turkish bitter tobacco. This was the war Kerr had dreamed of for so long. For three months he had been in the saddle, and more than once he had had to draw his sword when they were dealing with the warlike tribes on the Mesopotamian frontier or with the cavalry of the disintegrating Ottoman Empire.

He became a friend to the Russian Cossacks on the first day, when after awarding orders from behalf of king Archibald Kerr on grave dead in is Raid Cossacks have read on – English bearing:

 
On the first hour of my first day
In the front trench I fell…
Children in boxes at a play
Stand up to watch it well.
 

Crumpling his black Kuban hat in his hands, the mustachioed Cossack approached him and, crossing himself, asked quietly:

‘Tell me, friend, what is the name of this prayer?’

Confusing Russian words, Kerr told him about the “Epitaph” of the English poet Rudyard Kipling. Take Me To Church, Amen! Then, until nightfall, the Cossacks commemorated the fallen, letting vodka in a circle, and then drank again, throwing in a pot of new orders, and the English diplomat Archibald Kerr drank along with them.

He did not yet know that Kipling's son had been killed on the Western front at the battle of Loos, near Lille. In the same terrible slaughter will die and Robin is the brother of Archibald. And it is not known who killed them – the Germans or the British themselves.

That was the first time the British had used poison. More than a hundred tons of poisonous chlorine wind drove to the German positions. But suddenly his direction changed, and the attacking Marines were trapped. Thousands of the British died in terrible agony, the rest were killed by machine-gun fire in no man's land.

Then another three days the British command was sent to the bullets of the reserves and their allies – the French. The field in front of this suburb of Lille was strewn with the dead. More than three hundred thousand people died on both sides. Of the battalion of highland Scots guards commanded by Brother Robin, there were only a few survivors.

The letter, which told about the death of his brother in a gas attack, Kerr received, just about to say goodbye to the Russian Cossacks. He wanted immediate revenge on everyone – Turks, Germans, and Austrians. But… suddenly a gray-yellow veil floated Up, the whole world trembled like a Mirage, the eyes ceased to see, as if they were not covered with sand, but burned with caustic chlorine. He was taken to the Embassy quite ill. The doctor said firmly: the second Secretary must return to England at once.

After a difficult journey, Archibald Kerr found himself in London. Long treated. When his eyes began to see better, he went to Scotland. In the spring of 1917 he went to work in the commercial Department of the Ministry. He liked the new duties and the salary was much higher, but the desire to join the army remained just as strong. All the more that behind sometimes whispered: cleverly, they say, he settled.

For almost a year Kerr endured. Then he came up with the idea-by hook or by crook, he got a medical certificate that the work in this Department is not suitable for his vision, and therefore there is no reason to deny him the desire to join the army volunteers. It helped him…

Despite his high status, he did not want to become an officer on principle. A private soldier, Archibald Kerr, joined the Scots Chasseurs.