Thanks to Admiral Kolchak the wherewithal was forthcoming. Indeed, I render him bare justice in saying that without his stanch personal support the investigation would have been overwhelmed long ago by the constant intrigues of the Omsk Government. He gave the money out of his own funds because the grant legally authorised by him was “held up” by his Ministers.
Under the orders and supervision of General Diterichs, a command of White Guards was formed to carry out the necessary operations. The men were all from the Urals—i.e., miners and peasants versed in woodcraft. Several hundreds of them camped around the Ganina Yama (ditch), situated near a bend in the road to Koptiaki, not a hundred paces from the mine. These men knew what they were working for and put their shoulder to the wheel in all earnestness.
But we had to leave before complete success had crowned their efforts. Diterichs received the summons to save the armies. I went with him. General Domontovich, a very gallant soldier, took command in his place. (He died of typhus during the retreat and was buried in Chita early this year. “Tsárstvie nebésnoie.”)
Success came before we had to evacuate Ekaterinburg. The contents of the shaft, extracted with infinite trouble, set at rest for ever any lingering doubt as to the destruction of the bodies. Sokolov had his “proof.”
Here is the narrative of the investigation. It is a good commentary on the homely saying, “Murder will out.”
It will be remembered that Ermakov went with the bodies from the death-house. Now Ermakov lived at the Verkh-Issetsk ironworks, adjoining the city and situated along the route to Koptiaki—i.e., north-east of Ekaterinburg. The Stenbok-Fermer Wood lies a few miles beyond. At the works Ermakov found a detachment of his Red Guards (he was military komisar) and a number of conveyances ready harnessed. The whole procession moved off along the Koptiaki road. There is, indeed, no other road in the vicinity practicable for a motor-lorry. Vaganov, the other regicide, mounted his horse and acted as armed escort for the lorry.
Shortly after three o’clock in the morning (solar time) they reached that place where several paths, long disused and grass-grown, turn off to the left towards Ganina Yama. Here they forced a way through the undergrowth, and at one place nearly upset the lorry into a ditch. The mark of the wheels was still visible a year later, and alongside lay the beam which had been brought from the disused mine to jack up the canted lorry.
Around the shafts in this particular place the grass then showed no trace of human passage. Koptiaki villagers did not come that way as a rule. The place had been well selected. But the murderers forgot the habits of the peasant, especially the haymakers and fisherfolk.
Nastasia Z. left the village at dawn with her son and daughter-in-law. They approached the gruesome procession just as it was turning off the road. Two horsemen rode up to them. One wore a sailor’s uniform. Nastasia knew him—he was a Verkh-Issetsk resident—Vaganov. The latter yelled out: “Turn back!” and coming abreast of the peasant cart brandished a revolver at Nastasia’s head. Frightened, the peasant woman pulled her horse round so sharply that the cart almost upset. Vaganov rode alongside, still pointing his weapon and shouting “Don’t look around or I shoot....” After chasing them about a mile towards the village, Vaganov rode back.
The peasant had not been able in the faint light to make out clearly what was behind Vaganov. “Something long and grey, like a heap,” was all that they could distinguish. The baba (peasant woman) concluded that it was the Red Guard army marching to Koptiaki. Urging her horse onward, she immediately roused the whole village, informing the muzhiks that the “army” was coming “with transport and artillery.” They listened in consternation, alarmed chiefly for their hay crop. An army coming meant fighting in the neighbourhood, and here it was just the time for mowing. The hay might all be lost.