On November 4 I received a telegram from Mr. Preston, British Consul at Ekaterinburg, asking that a detachment might be sent to attend on November 9 at the inauguration of Czech national life and the ceremonial presentation of colours to four Czech battalions of the Czech National Army.  I consulted General Knox, and he having received a similar request from General Gaida, commanding at Ekaterinburg, that a detachment should visit the several fronts over the Urals for the purpose of giving moral support to the war-weary veterans of our Allies, it was decided that I should take the regimental band and a guard of one hundred picked men for this purpose.  Both Czech and Russian were sad at the long weary wait between the promised help of England and the appearance of the first khaki-clad soldier on the scene.

All preparations had been made for my journey, and I was timed to start from Omsk at 3 P.M. on Friday.  Early on Friday I was informed that Admiral Koltchak, the Minister for War, was also travelling to the Czech ceremony, and, as engines were very scarce, would I allow his carriage to be attached to my train?  I readily consented.  About midday a further note informed me that the admiral’s own car was found to be full of the wives and children of his old naval officers, that there were no other cars, but they hoped to be able to get another by 7 P.M.  The result was that we did not turn out of the town station till that hour.  We had only got to the lower station, less than a mile on our journey, when the officials informed me that something had broken on the admiral’s carriage which would take two hours to repair.  I felt there was a deliberate attempt being made by someone to prevent either the admiral or myself from performing our journey.  At 11 P.M.  I walked out to the workshops where the repairs were being effected, and sat on an anvil until 4 A.M., through a horrible Siberian night, while a good-tempered “Russky” blacksmith accomplished his part of the task.

No Russian official would dream of doing a straight thing if a crooked one would accomplish his purpose.  So “Polkovnika” Frank telegraphed in my name to all the railway section commandants ordering them under pain of summary execution to clear their part of the line and prepare express engines at each stopping-place ready to haul on to the admiral’s train the moment it came in.  We bribed an old Russian provodnik to get us a Russian flag to fasten on the admiral’s carriage, which he did, and we became the first Russian train that had dared to carry a Russian flag for nearly a year.  We also had two Union Jacks, and altogether the Russian officials became suspicious that here at any rate was a combination of colour to which the greatest respect must be paid.