Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #19

Ekaterinburg, Autumn 1918

I was taken to a hotel that was being used by the Cheka, half a mile away from the Ipatiev House. People were being tortured and executed there. They threw me into a cell with Klementy Nagorny. He was badly hurt from weeks of abuse. In the adjacent cell was Prince Dolgorukov. He was convinced that the Romanovs were in grave danger and begged us to save them. Guards took him from his cell shortly after and we never saw him again. In spite of his injuries, Nagorny overcame the jailers to help me escape, giving up his life.

The house was empty when I returned and the bedrooms had been ransacked. Almost nothing remained except for a pouch of Alexei's toy soldiers. My heart sank when I went down to the basement. Blood was strewn across the floor and the walls were riddled with bullet holes. I came to the sudden realization that I was too late. I staggered back into the grand duchesses' room where I eventually collapsed. There was nothing I could've done, for I would've been killed too. But I knew the risks when I chose to be imprisoned with the imperial family.

Before long I found myself in the company of the anti-communist White Army. I had hoped to find the murderers as well as the Romanovs' grave site. I dreaded at the thought of seeing their decomposing corpses, but it wasn't right to just leave them there. The hours turned to days. Then, finally, I shot dead a commissar during a skirmish. I recognized him as one of the thugs who served at the Ipatiev House. Inside his bag was my journal, along with many valuables taken from the Romanovs. Among them was a partially bloodied, shredded garment sewed with diamonds. It must've belonged to one of the girls. The bastards stripped them. The commissar's documents only stated that he was to report to Moscow with the stolen goods. I couldn't capture him alive for interrogation. My search had reached a dead end.

For a while I was in anguish. I spent weeks in the city trying to find new traces, but to no avail. I am not a detective. When I regained composure, I remembered Olga's letter. Hopefully her aunt is still in the Crimea. I won't be staying with the Whites, who are divided about their goals. Nor will I stay with the surviving imperial entourage. They plan to head east towards Omsk. My only remaining duty is delivering Olga's letter to her aunt. My journey to the Crimea will be long and treacherous, but I'm doing this for Olga. The personal belongings I recovered, though sentimental to me, are not mine to keep anyway.

I feel terrible for leaving the Romanovs behind. I wanted to give them a proper burial somewhere safe and far away from the chaos that is ravaging Russia. They have made a real difference in my life, and the grand duchesses were more than just friends to me. The eight years I spent with them are by far the best years of my life. I will always treasure my relationship with them and think of them with fond memories, warm feelings and a special place in my heart.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #18

Ipatiev House, July 1918

Guards were harassing the grand duchesses in their bedroom. They demanded the girls' bracelets and anymore valuables they may be hiding. I went in and told them to leave but they ignored me. When they grew more aggressive towards the girls, I wrested a pistol from their grasp and fired a shot across the room that got their attention. One of the thugs did a cut-throat gesture at me as I forced them out at gunpoint. They all reeked of alcohol.

The commissar came in shortly afterwards. I surrendered the pistol willingly, but he said that I will be expelled from the house for attacking his men. I argued that their hostile and drunken behaviour had forced my hand, but he was beyond reasoning. He gave me an hour to gather my belongings and say my goodbyes to the family, after which I will be escorted to the train station to rejoin the rest of the Romanov entourage.

Nicholas and Alexandra warned me to expect to be arrested once I step outside the fence. They are extremely sad to lose another loyal servant but Alexandra asked me not to endanger her family by trying to rescue them. When I left their bedroom, Anastasia quickly hugged me. There were tears in her eyes. She is afraid of what the Bolsheviks might do to me. We went back into the girls' bedroom. The grand duchesses are grateful for what I did earlier. I could not promise them if we will see each other again. They took turns to hug me, praying for my safety. Marie removed her necklace which carries a religious icon and hung it around my neck. She wants me to return it to her when we are reunited.

I implored Olga to end her rift with Marie. In return, Olga asked me to deliver a letter to her aunt if I see her. She does not want the secret police to intercept it. Marie assured me that she holds no grudges towards her sister. I told her to stay close to her family no matter what happens. I will be leaving my journal with them as a farewell gift. Just needed to destroy a few pages that are private to me. Olga, Tatiana, Marie and Anastasia: I want you all to know that I deeply care about you and that I will never forget you or your family. Take care of yourselves. Until we meet again.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #17

ГА РФ, ф. 640 оп. 3 д. 25 л. 72 фото 1070

Ipatiev House, 26 June 1918

The guards are gradually being replaced by Cheka agents. One of them fired a shot without warning at Anastasia when she kept peeking out of a fortochka. They scrawled obscene graffiti on the walls of the bathroom and lavatory. Tatiana and Dr Botkin appealed to the commandant to restrain his men, but they only fell on deaf ears. Olga, repulsed by their behaviour, avoids them entirely.

I overheard Alexandra chastising Marie for fraternizing with a guard. A commissar warned us of severe consequences if we speak with any of the guards again. Olga was perhaps the most unforgiving. She has not spoken to her sister since that morning. For the rest of the day, Marie stayed very close to me like an inseparable twin. She must have felt rejected by her mother and sister. I resumed my daily routine trying to ignore what happened. I later asked Marie if she was okay and she simply nodded.

Marie entered my room in the evening, asking if I could share my bed with her. She did not feel like sleeping with her sisters after falling out with Olga. I didn't pry about her association with the guard as she was still looking distressed. The bed is narrow, barely enough for the two of us. I told her that she could have it while I sleep on the floor, but she insisted on sharing. We were facing each other in bed. I could tell that she was still awake. A lot must have been going through her mind.

I almost forgot that it was her birthday. I could not find the right moment to say it to her until she was in my room. Marie opened her large blue eyes when I held her hand and whispered happy birthday to her. Without saying a word, she softly kissed me on the cheek and snuggled into my arms. She was so warm and I could feel her bosom heaving against me. It was breathtaking. I was glad to be of some comfort to her. Whatever God may be, I thank God for these few pleasant hours with Marie. Hopefully what happened earlier will soon pass with time.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #16

Ipatiev House, 23 May 1918

The guards kept most of the imperial staff on the train. Those who arrived were all soaking wet from the rain and struggling through deep mud. Tatiana had the most difficulty. She was carrying a heavy suitcase and her little pet dog Ortipo. None of the guards bothered to offer their assistance. They just gazed at her with contempt, as if she had committed a heinous crime.

While I assisted Tatiana with her suitcase, I noticed bruises on Nagorny's face. During their journey on the steamboat, the guards ordered the grand duchesses not to lock their cabin door. They took this opportunity to force their way in at night, threatening and harassing the girls. Nagorny was beaten up when he tried to stop them. But Tatiana assured me that she and her sisters were unharmed. She held my arm before I could confront the guards, urging me to accompany her into the house. She did not want any trouble. Once I took the girls upstairs to their bedroom, Tatiana placed Ortipo on the floor and turned to hug me. She was pleased to see me again.

Not long after their arrival, Nagorny was called into the commandant's office and escorted from the house a few minutes later. The guards will not tell us why. The Cheka conduct regular inspections of the house, meddling with our belongings. They confiscated many of the family's valuables, claiming they were for "safekeeping". Alexandra refused to let them take her or her daughters' bracelets. I do not know why the authorities would send secret police to guard the imperial family, but I am wary of them.

Olga, Tatiana and Anastasia found their first evening here discomforting. They were still worried about the guards. They agreed to let me watch over them while they try to sleep. Marie made me a cup of coffee before she went to bed with Anastasia, cuddling her close. Olga has been very quiet since she arrived. We have been in captivity for over a year now. Imprisonment is taking its toll on the family both physically and mentally.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #15

Александровский дворец, 1917 г.
ГА РФ, ф. 683 оп. 1 д. 125 л. 23 фото 389

Ipatiev House, April 1918

A political commissar took us to another location, this time to the city of Ekaterinburg in the Urals. Alexei was not well enough to travel, having fallen seriously ill a month ago. Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia and a few other captives stayed with him in Tobolsk. I accompanied the tsar, empress, Marie, Yevgeny Botkin and Anna Demidova to Ekaterinburg. Vasily Dolgorukov, Terenty Chemodurov and Ivan Sednev also came with us but they were moved into lodgings in the city. They will rejoin us later, or so the commissar claimed.

Our new accommodation is guarded by militiamen led by secret police known as the Cheka. Botkin, Demidova and I were forced to sign a written statement affirming our wish to continue serving the tsar, promising to obey the guard commandant of the ominously named House of Special Purpose, and considering ourselves of equal position with the imperial family. We were explicitly ordered to address the Romanovs only by their names. Our meals have been rationed. We are only allowed outdoors twice a day, but any form of manual labour is forbidden. All the windows are sealed shut and whitewashed, and the house is surrounded by a towering wooden fence. The place is a prison.

Guards are posted at every corner and anti-tsarist demonstrations can often be heard outside. When Marie and her mother conversed in English, a guard rudely interrupted and reminded them that only Russian is allowed. Marie's camera was confiscated as they forbid photography in the house. They did not even let her develop the film roll which contained photos taken while in Tobolsk. She misses the quiet peacefulness in Tobolsk. Nevertheless, she has not given up on the likelihood of her family being released and still longs for a new life either in the Crimea or England.

I met with the tsar one evening. I pushed him as far as I could to try and smuggle a letter to the nearby British consulate via a sympathetic guard, seeing as he often likes to try and speak with them. But in the end, he only smiled and talked of simple pleasures. He commended my loyalty and knows I am fond of his children. Never once spoke about politics. Just before he lit a cigarette, he asked me to call him Nicholas.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #14

https://www.kunstmuseum.nl/en/press/pierre-gilliard-last-days-romanovs

Governor's Mansion, late 1917

We left the Alexander Palace on August 1st and were taken to the town of Tobolsk in Siberia. The prime minister claims that the local populace is loyal to the tsar and the town is devoid of politics, making it a safer location than Tsarskoe Selo. The imperial family was dismayed that they were not going to the Crimea. Marie seems to like the mansion. She only wishes there were no guards. Some of the Romanov entourage are sheltered in an adjacent house, but they are often denied access to the imperial family.

The guards are intolerant of Anastasia. One day she borrowed Alexei's slingshot and launched a projectile at a sentry outside, hitting him in the head. She hid behind me as he ran up the stairs and angrily confronted us, confiscating the slingshot. Another guard forced the Romanovs to have their portraits taken by a photographer in an attempt to humiliate them. Anastasia did not comply and ruined her picture by making a face for the camera. The guard uttered profanities at her, and when Alexei demanded he apologize to his sister, he was shoved to the floor.

Before I could intervene, Alexei's guardian, Klementy Nagorny, lunged at the guard and beat him to a pulp. Nagorny was therefore banished to the adjacent house, though he was allowed to return the following day after the tsar pleaded with the commandant. He has no regrets attacking the coward for humiliating the Romanovs. Alexei used to have two guardians, both of whom were sailors from the imperial yacht. Following the revolution, only Nagorny chose to remain with the imperial family. Along with Ivan Sednev, Vasily Dolgorukov and Ilya Tatishchev, we are essentially what's left of the Tsar's Escort.

Anastasia came downstairs one freezing winter night. She was bored. I was keeping warm by the fireplace and she huddled next to me. We spoke to each other in English in case the guard standing near the doorway was eavesdropping. She likes having me around and hopes that I will continue to stay with her family, maybe live on a nearby farmhouse in the English countryside where we could often visit each other. She admits she'll miss seeing the sea. I haven't decided what I'll do once the Romanovs have settled down. I'll think it over after they're safely out of Russia. One thing's for sure, I would follow Anastasia and her family to the ends of the earth.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #13

Alexander Palace, July 1917

Marie is recovering well. The tsar visited her as soon as her health began to improve, carrying breakfast to her bed. Once she was free of her wheelchair, she would enter my room and sit at my bedside to watch me sleep, greeting me when I awoke. In the evenings she would come in and wish me goodnight. When she was in the mood, which happened often, she would hide behind the doorway and scare me when I emerged.

Shortly after the tsar abdicated, he received a telegram from his cousin, King George V, offering asylum in England. But the tsar was not prepared to leave until his daughters had recovered from their illnesses. No word came from the British ever since, thus the imperial family remain under house arrest. I have lived to see something which I have never expected. Royal cousins wage war across Europe, now one is afraid to help the other in need.

The guards instructed us that only Russian is to be spoken in the palace. The family is barred from using the telephone or receiving visitors and any outgoing letters will be examined by the guard commandant. We are forbidden from leaving the palace except for fenced in areas in the park. Olga recognized a former colleague of mine among the guards. While he explained to me his decision to side with the revolutionaries, Olga looked away. Once he was gone, she told me he was a vile man. Only a few guards show respect for the imperial family.

We celebrated Anastasia's sixteenth birthday in the palace. Her hair was finally pinned up and she now wears ankle-length skirts like her sisters. However, clumps of hair were falling from the girls' heads as a result of the measles. They all had their heads shaved on 22 June, which was a terrible pity for Anastasia. The Tsarevich Alexei also had his head shaved to show solidarity. They are not ashamed to show their bald heads while walking outside or gardening.

Anastasia collected a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair and gave it to me, something to remember her by should we ever part ways. In the garden, she lit up a cigarette and offered to share it with me. We took turns smoking it. I savoured the lingering warmth of her lips on the cigarette with each puff. She giggled when I choked. I will miss seeing her long hair. It will take a while for it to grow back. But now that Anastasia is old enough to wear a chignon, she has suddenly blossomed into a beautiful young lady.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #12

Alexander Palace, 8 March 1917

Empress Alexandra instructed us to remove the imperial insignia from our uniforms to avoid provoking the rebels when they return. Morale disappeared when we received news that the tsar has abdicated. With each passing day several colleagues eventually left the palace. The situation was hopeless to them. Their loyalty to the imperial family had been pushed to the very limit.

Large numbers of troops led by a general appeared outside the palace. He ordered us to unlock the gates, threatening to use force if necessary. An officer told us to either surrender our weapons and leave or report to a garrison in Petrograd, declaring that the Imperial Guard has been disbanded. Alexandra thanked the guards for their loyal service and presented those who greeted her with icons as a farewell gift. She later met the general and informed her remaining staff that they had until evening to leave the palace or be placed under house arrest with the family. A few have chosen to stay.

Alexei is feeling better but Anastasia has succumbed to the measles, followed by Marie soon after. I was allowed into the sickroom once, but on the condition that I made no mention of the abdication. Only Marie knows that her father has abdicated. The past few days were agonizing for her and she is worried for her parents. She continuously prays for her father to return home safely. Her only consolation is knowing that I did not forsake her family.

I watched over the girls for about an hour before I had to leave while the nurses tended to them. Alexandra has given me my own room in the palace now that I was free of my duties. I only intend to stay until the family's house arrest has been lifted, but she welcomed me to stay with them for as long as I like.

Before I left the sickroom, Tatiana noticed that I was still wearing my imperial insignia. She cannot hear me because her illness has led to temporary deafness. I took off my overcoat and draped it over her, which she clutched with her hands. Tatiana knows that I had worked long and hard to earn it, but I was happy to be rid of it. The imperial family is all that matters to me now.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #11

 Альбом Николая II, 1913-1916 гг, 1536-0017 (Илья Григорьев | Flickr)

Alexander Palace, 28 February 1917

Have made first contact with the revolutionaries. A large mob attempted to storm the palace gates, but they dispersed when we fired warning shots into the air. I fear we will not be able to repel them again should they return with weapons. The Empress Alexandra was advised to evacuate her children to the safety of an imperial residence in Gatchina, but she has been reluctant as she is anxiously awaiting news from the tsar who is at Stavka.

Olga was startled by the gunshots. She is with Tatiana and Alexei in the sickroom. They contracted measles a week ago. I assured them that the palace is safe. However, I am speaking in half-truths. Ever since the revolution broke out, many of the palace guards have either deserted or failed to report for duty, leaving us desperately understaffed. But I cannot bring myself to tell her that. I am sure that Olga knows that I am holding back, but to her credit, she says nothing.

The sound of distant gunfire continued to echo through the frigid night. We were assembled in the courtyard, preparing for another confrontation. With rioting on the streets, many of the palace staff were compelled to return home to their families. I like to think that some of my colleagues are absent for the same reason, though the gunfire speaks to the contrary. Nurses from the hospital and friends of the imperial family are gradually arriving to offer their help.

In spite of the danger, Alexandra and Marie came out to see us, expressing their gratitude to each soldier for their continuing loyalty to the imperial family. The empress hopes that our presence alone will be enough to deter the rebels, avoiding any needless bloodshed. Marie looked very sick and pale as she slowly made her way down the line of guards with her mother. I advised her to go back inside the palace when she approached me, but she fell to her knees and begged me to stay. Marie was trembling. I wrapped my overcoat around her and accompanied her indoors. I have known the Romanovs for almost seven years and I am not about to abandon them now, especially in their time of need.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #10

ГА РФ, ф. 640 оп. 3 д. 25 л. 62 фото 906 (eavm | Fotki.Yandex)

Alexander Palace, 21 December 1916

A funeral for Rasputin was held a short distance from the palace with the imperial family in attendance. While they were away, I neglected my duties and sat next to a river bridge on the edge of the park. I spent sleepless nights wondering what I had done to Olga. I had not seen her since we last spoke. It was peacefully quiet and I was glad to have some time to myself.

To my surprise, Olga appeared and sat next to me. Having filled her mind with doubt, she chose not to attend the burial. I do not know what excuse she gave for not going, but the empress must have been furious. Olga asked me about the letter and I reaffirmed its authenticity, telling her where I found it. She already knew it was Rasputin's as she recognized his handwriting, but was initially reluctant to accept it. Though the letter was in my pocket, she did not wish to read it again.

I never met Rasputin personally. My knowledge of him only came from newspapers and gossip, but Olga asked for my opinion of him. I think he was just a religious zealot who took advantage of her family's hospitality. But he should have been banished indefinitely from the capital, not assassinated. That was all I was willing to say to Olga. She doubts if her mother would have approved of banishing Rasputin, let alone sever all contact with him.

Olga removed a pendant from her necklace. It had a picture of Rasputin on it. She and her siblings have had one ever since he first came into their lives. Then she dropped it into the river, tucking the necklace with a baptismal cross back into her blouse. Olga feels that while it was perhaps necessary for him to be killed, it should not have been done so terribly. She knows that sooner or later she will have to visit Rasputin's grave, lest she defy her mother again.

Olga wanted me to swear that I will not tell her family about the letter. I could not bear to keep a secret from them, especially Marie and Anastasia. But I still care about Olga and don't want to lose her trust. I borrowed her cigarette lighter and used it to burn the letter, thereby ensuring the truth remains a secret between us. I told Olga how sorry I was for hurting her and she tearfully asked me to stay with her awhile longer, resting her head on my shoulder.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #9

Alexander Palace, 18 December 1916

The imperial family has been devastated by the death of Grigori Rasputin. He was murdered yesterday in the Moika Palace, home of the Yusupovs. His body has yet to be found. For a while I ignored whatever rumours the newspapers concocted about Rasputin's relationship with the imperial family. But as the rumours persisted, I began to feel confused. His death finally convinced me to find out for myself.

There were policemen guarding the entrance to Rasputin's apartment in Petrograd. They granted me entry since I was from the palace. I thoroughly searched the place and did not find anything confirming the rumours. Instead there was a letter addressed to the tsar, written only a few days ago. Rasputin predicted that death will soon befall the imperial family if he was killed by any of the tsar's relatives. I could not understand it, Rasputin was their confidant. Why would he write such a thing?

Olga was alone in the garden when I returned to the palace. She is ashamed of her cousin Dmitri Pavlovich for his involvement in killing Rasputin. Olga also expressed her hatred for Felix Yusupov. He never had the stomach to serve in the military yet he is capable of committing murder. She can never look them in the face again, knowing what they did.

I showed her the letter when we talked about Rasputin. She broke down in tears after reading it. Olga refused to believe he wrote it and was upset at me for showing it to her. She dropped the letter and went back into the palace. I only wanted her to know the truth, but I should have known better. Olga's health has been very poor lately and she is deeply troubled by the war. Now I have inflicted even more misery on her.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #8

Tsarskoye Selo, September 1914

It seemed only yesterday when the imperial family was on good terms with their German relatives. How times have changed so suddenly. Olga, Tatiana and their mother, the Empress Alexandra, have underwent training to become Red Cross nurses at a private hospital on the family's estate.

Our campaign on the front has been disastrous so far. A close friend of mine fell near Allenstein in late August. The Germans have been proudly calling it the Battle of Tannenberg. One of the wounded survivors at the hospital brought back his personal belongings, which I intend to send to his family. He vaguely remembered my friend's final moments, but I was glad to know that he did not suffer and was not alone when he died. A prayer was conducted but without a burial as his body was not recovered. His death has been difficult to bear.

While I was grieving outside the hospital, I felt someone patting my back. I opened my eyes to see Olga and Tatiana. They consoled me as I struggled with my tears, realizing I had lost someone very close to me. Olga reminisced about her childhood memories of her cousin Ella, who died when she was only eight years old. She struggled to cope with the loss for months. They both hugged me before they had to return to class.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #7

ГА РФ ф. 673 оп. 1 д. 232 л. 11 фото 163

Alexander Palace, March 1913

Tatiana was up very late, watching me on guard duty from the window of her isolation room. She still has a fever but her condition is improving. Olga passed me a note from Tatiana, promising to make it up to me for her absence at the ball. She asked me to walk by her window on my next night shift. When I did, she blew me a kiss, and I obliged her by fainting in the snow. I still hope to dance with her one day, but after that moment, what more can I ask for?

Anastasia was hiding up a tree in the afternoon. She was supposed to be studying but instead avoided her tutor. She only climbed down when I agreed to let her inside the guardhouse where it was warm, though I warned her that if a governess called I would have to escort her back to the palace. While Anastasia was resting on my bunk bed, she saw my journal on the bedside table and proceeded to read it. Ever since she first saw me writing she has been curious of its contents.

Anastasia came across a postcard of her family and another of herself in a white dress, both of which I keep in the journal. She returned to the palace and later came back with a copy of the original photo for me. The postcard of her family was signed by her siblings. Tatiana's signature was the most impressive. She signed hers with a grand flourish. Anastasia spent the next hour or so reading me her English essays. She was happy to practice with me because I did not behave like a tutor.

The scent of Anastasia's violet perfume was still on the bed sheets when I slept that night.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #6

 Winter Palace, February 1913

A luxurious ball was held in the capital to celebrate the Romanov Tercentenary. Tatiana had granted me the honour to be her escort before she fell ill with typhoid. She is recuperating in one of the upstairs bedchambers. I visited her first to wish her a quick recovery. She appreciated it and told me not to worry about her, wishing me a pleasant evening.

None of the grand dukes or princes had offered to escort the grand duchesses to the ball. To save them from embarrassment, officers from the Tsar's Escort voluntarily partnered Olga and Anastasia. I took the opportunity to ask Marie if I could accompany her, and she blushed as she delightfully accepted. She introduced me to her friends and relatives. Some of them joked that I was too thin for her. My low rank was also unimpressive to them, but Marie was not discouraged. She admired my full dress uniform and preferred my company more than her social equals.

We proceeded to the dance floor after dinner. Olga, however, remained at the table, apparently unenthusiastic about the party. I learned from Marie that her sister had fallen for a naval officer and was heartbroken when he got married. I wanted to cheer her up, so I later approached her for a dance. She was resplendent in her pink dress. While on the dance floor, Olga and I fell when I made a misstep and tripped. There were bursts of laughter all around us. I felt ashamed for humiliating her, but she smiled and insisted we finish our dance. The grand duchesses were talented dancers. I only wish Tatiana could be here.

As the evening wore on, I accompanied Olga and Marie to the grand staircase where we bade each other goodnight before they retired to their rooms. Anastasia was behind me, visibly upset because I never danced with her. I offered her my hand, but instead of returning to the ballroom she happily took me outside to dance in the garden. Afterwards we sat on a bench to rest. Anastasia was softly humming music that was playing in the ballroom, all the while leaning against me with her hands grasping my arm.

Anastasia has rarely ever showed her charming side to me in the past three years. As time went by, I saw less of her pranks and more of her loveliness. Either I have finally won her affection or merely satisfied the imp temporarily. I carried her back inside when she dozed off. I will never forget this night.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #5

  ГАРФ 640 -1 -384 (Tatiana Z | Flickr)

Alexander Palace, Summer 1911

Made a long patrol today. There was nothing to report. Time seems irrelevant except for the fact that I am bored and these hours alone are endless. My colleagues are only interested in making sure that the man beside them is doing their duty. The daily roll calls and regular inspections of our bunks and uniforms has become monotonous. It is difficult for me to muster any enthusiasm for my regular duties here.

The truth is, I am missing the company of the tsar's children. They have been spending their summer in the Finnish skerries. I can see all of their faces, but somehow it is not enough. I find myself drawn to them in ways much stronger than my obligations to the military. They have truly enchanted me. Perhaps it is my own fault that I grew so close to them. I often remind myself that they are the children of the Emperor of All Russia, so I must be careful not to overstep my boundaries.

My unit is no longer required to escort the tsar and his family on their holiday trips. We only have to accompany them as far as the yacht or train, after which responsibility is handed over to the navy and cossacks. With the imperial family gone for weeks, my colleagues enjoyed lesser workloads at the palace. I only look forward to going to bed to pass the time whenever I'm off duty, or going home when I'm granted leave.

Marie sent me a postcard with a picture of her and her siblings on the obverse. Very kind of her. I will be sure to write to her should the opportunity arise. It may be forward of me, but what can it hurt? After all, she is my friend. Sometimes I even think of her as a sister.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #4

Alexander Palace, Winter 1910

Marie and Anastasia came by the guardhouse today and had a snowball fight with me and my colleague. Soon a staff car carrying some minister arrived. We opened the gate for him while covered in snow. Amusingly, the little pair joined us in saluting the vehicle. We waited for it to pass us before resuming our snowball fight. Before they left, Marie gave me a flower which she had plucked from the garden, her gaze looking deeply into my eyes. When I told her that she was staring at me, she quickly covered her face in embarrassment and ran off.

A few hours later, Tatiana and I took a walk in the park. Anastasia suddenly pounced me from behind and ran off with my cap. While Tatiana was ordering her sister to give it back, I reluctantly chased after her and grappled her to the ground. Anastasia found my hands ticklish, so I proceeded to tickle her waist. She laughed hysterically but still refused to surrender my cap, clutching it tightly to her chest.

Tatiana saw her parents walking nearby and alerted me to their presence. I quickly helped Anastasia to her feet. I thought it best to let her be lest I incur the wrath of the tsar and empress for touching their daughter. Tatiana whisked me behind a tree for a moment, hoping they didn't see me. From there we resumed our walk. She came by the guardhouse afterwards with my cap and offered her apologies, promising to restrain her sister in future. I told her it was perfectly all right.

My colleagues believe that Anastasia would not trouble me if I learned to stop being such a weakling. She is a little annoying, though I have secretly grown to like her playfulness. I will not have the respect of my colleagues, but the company of a grand duchess is too good to give up. Sometimes when I'm on duty I would look in the direction of the palace, wondering if Anastasia will appear.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #3

Alexander Palace, 1910

The tsar's children were having a photo shoot. I tried to distract Anastasia by making silly faces from behind a doorway. Was hoping to get back at her for pranking me last time. Instead I attracted Maria's attention. She lost her concentration just as the photographer took their picture, and came running after me when the session ended. I did not attempt to flee from her. While I was explaining myself, Maria was hitting me with her fists. The Empress Alexandra hung the photograph on a wall in one of the palace rooms. Maria is embarrassed whenever she sees it.

There was a kitten stuck on top of a tree not far from the palace. I climbed up to retrieve it, and while I was making my way down I saw the Grand Duchesses Olga and Tatiana waiting below. The kitten belongs to them and they were looking for it after it snuck out of the palace. I was a bit nervous speaking to them because they looked very mature for their age. They heard about me from their younger sisters. When they took their kitten and walked in the direction of the palace, I overheard Tatiana whispering to Olga that I was very cute. I could die now.

The Tsarevich Alexei has a habit of walking past the guardhouse often, and we have to stand at attention whenever he appears. Fortunately, on the tsar's orders, we don't have to salute the tsarevich unless another member of the imperial family is with him. Anastasia knows of this however, and often accompanies her brother. It pleases me to see her around though.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #2

ГА РФ, ф. 651 оп. 1 д. 260 л. 3 фото 32 (eavm | Fotki.Yandex)

Standart Roadstead, Summer 1910

A small guard detachment was assigned to escort the Romanov family on their holiday cruise to the Finnish skerries. We travelled there on the imperial yacht Standart. Halfway into the journey, a seaman was looking for the Grand Duchess Maria. The chefs were cooking meals for the family and she had gone missing. The seaman asked me to help find her but to remain discreet because he was responsible for her safety.

I found Maria below decks weeping at one corner. She apparently had a quarrel with her elder sisters, who called her fat. Wiping the tears from her eyes, I told her she was not fat and offered to carry her in my arms. She was reluctant at first because she feared she was too heavy for me, but I proved her wrong. I carried her up to the main deck and handed her over to the seaman, who escorted her to the dining saloon. Her tears were gone by then.

Maria later asked me to accompany her to the bow section of the ship, where we could enjoy the view of the Finnish coastline. I did not properly introduce myself to her earlier. It was the first time I've ever had a conversation with a grand duchess. She was keen to know about me and was a surprisingly good listener. The sailors would not stop looking at us. After she left, they jokingly accused me of courting her. I hope I have not drawn any unnecessary attention.

While we were ashore on the mainland, I had a chance to lay back comfortably on a bench to gaze upon the stars. It would have been an incredibly beautiful night if only I was alone. Anastasia kept me occupied with her usual pranks and playfulness. Were it not for her, I believe I would be having the time of my life. I know she means well, but she is quite possibly the naughtiest child I have ever met.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier #1

Romanov photograph album 2, p. 46

Alexander Palace, January 1910

Upon graduation from military academy, I was sent to the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo, the residence of Tsar Nicholas II and his family. On arrival I reported to my unit and registered with the clerk, who assigned me a bunk and issued me a service rifle and bayonet. I will be issued a handgun when I become an officer. A senior guardsman gave me a tour of the palace's surrounding areas. There were sentry posts and patrol routes I had to familiarize myself with.

Within a week I was out prowling on my own. I was initially content with my posting, but that changed dramatically when I noticed a little girl following me during a patrol in the Alexander Park. She kept her distance from me, picking up the pace whenever she fell too far behind. She vanished when I neared the guardhouse. When I enquired with my colleagues, they told me she's the Grand Duchess Anastasia who is just curious to see a new face and that I can ignore her. They were giggling behind my back as I left the guardhouse, which left me puzzled.

The next day there were two grand duchesses following me. They were wearing identical dresses and were whispering to each other. Suddenly my head was hit by a hard object from behind. I turned to see the grand duchesses looking nervously at me. The taller one apologized while Anastasia hid behind her in fear of reprisal. I continued on my way, unsure of how to respond. My colleagues laughed when I returned to the guardhouse and told them what happened.

It didn't take me long to realize that Anastasia often plays pranks on the palace staff and, to a lesser extent, the guards. Maria, the taller one, is helpless and always ends up apologizing for her sister's misbehaviour. Our commandant is not bothered by Anastasia as he believes her pranks serve to remind us to remain vigilant. The hard object Anastasia threw at me was a tiny pebble, which really hurt. Her aim was very precise. Still, my thoughts kept coming back to Maria. She was a magnificent looking girl.

Journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier

 

I suddenly came up with an idea to create a journal of a Russian Imperial Guard soldier who was with the last royal family. It is of course a work of fiction, but it will be based on actual events.

Only time will tell how many entries I'll be publishing. I may not know much of the Romanov family, but at least I can put some of my imaginations and dreams of them in writing. I may be terrible at English, but it's worth a shot.

Update (28 February 2018): Seems I have finished writing about my Romanov fantasies. I actually published over 20 entries, but over the months I deleted several as they were nothing more than filler. I kept in mind that "less is more". This meant omitting any mention of Alexei's hemophilia as well as any allegations about Rasputin. My fantasies have always been about OTMA anyway.

Overall I am satisfied. I kept the entries as historical as possible, ending with the brutal murder of the entire Romanov family. Of course I was reluctant to write about the murders because it hurts me so much, but the story had to end somewhere and stopping at the revolution just seems abrupt. One of my favourite entries takes place during their imprisonment anyway. If anyone is curious which one, it's the one that involves Maria, probably my favourite of the four grand duchesses.

Once in a while I still do some retyping. If anyone has read through my journal entries, I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing them. Just don't take them seriously.

Rekindled interest in the Romanov family

When I come to think of it, I've to admit, I don't really know so much about them.

By the time I was born, the Romanovs had been dead for almost 70 years. I first knew about Anastasia in 1997, when I saw the fictional animated film. I quickly moved on as the movie led me to believe she lived happily ever after. It was only in 2009, when I happened to be reading about World War I (after watching Joyeux Noël during Christmas), that I gained a clearer understanding of what happened.

But it was in late January 2013 when I rekindled my interest in the Romanovs. While listening to that famous disco song of Rasputin, I decided to google him on Wikipedia, then clicked Alexei and then finally Maria's biography article. Only then did I absolutely know for certain that Anastasia had been murdered. From that day onwards, I never stopped thinking of them.

Lego Faora-Ul minifigure

The minifigure, just as it looked on sale. Blu-Tack was used to attach the helmet to the hand. Note that the hairpiece doesn't fit with the armor, unless you don't mind seeing a slight gap above the forehead.

Bought this minifigure seperately as I'm unwilling to buy a whole expensive set. Lucky for me, the Lego store I went to appear to sell minifigures individually by unboxing some of the sets they came with. However, the larger the set, the more expensive the minifigure (there are few exceptions though). In my case, Faora is exclusive to the Superman: Battle of Smallville set, which is both large and pricey. Still, it's better than having to buy an entire set which I will probably just put aside one day to collect dust.

Quality printing on the torso. Faora actually looks better without the armor on.

In memory of the Russian Grand Duchesses

From left to right: The Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, Maria and Anastasia.

I found this somewhere on the internet, and I decided to reuse it here. I did some rewording to make it fit, so sorry if it doesn't rhyme (that's not the point of this post though).

They may be gone for almost a hundred years
And they lived on me for over a hundred years ahead
But they'll always be on my mind
Until the day I die

Olga, Tatiana, Maria and Anastasia were their names
They never knew me but I love them like nothing will be the same
I wish that I could dance with them under the bright moon
And go around the world to celebrate their birthdays

I wish I could keep the love satisfied
So they would forever be in my mind
I also wish I could find a way
To stay by their side just for a day

They held me during my lonely times
Which happened a lot of times
I know none of them will ever be mine
But they'll be always be on my mind

95th anniversary of the Ipatiev House massacre

95 years ago today, the lives of the Romanov family came to an abrupt and brutal end. The manner in which they were murdered is still very difficult for me to accept. The thought of how the fiends handled and disposed of them so bestially only makes it worse. Is the world really so grim?

Ever since I first paid real attention to the Romanov family in January of this year, I've always wished I could time warp to July 1918 and save every one of them, including those who accompanied them into exile. But try as I might, regardless of how long, nothing will ever bring them back. I never knew them, so I'll never get to hear their voices, see them in real color or feel the touch of their hands. All I can do is mourn them, lament their passing, and think of them in my imaginations.

Call me crazy, but I really cannot help it. I'm not sure how to put this, but to Nicholas, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia and Alexei: may you all rest in peace, and lots of love from me.

Anniversary of Grand Duchess Maria's birthday

Exactly 100 years ago today on 26 June, Maria turned 14 years old. I would do anything just to witness her birthday. To see Maria in real colour would be a dream come true for me. In the words of Mountbatten, "I was mad about her."

Anniversary of Grand Duchess Anastasia's birthday

Exactly 100 years ago today on 18 June, Anastasia turned twelve years old. Wish I was there to witness and celebrate her birthday.

Keeping a photo of Grand Duchess Anastasia

Inspired by what Louis Mountbatten did, I've kept this photo of Anastasia at my bedside. Just need to find a frame for it.

Sometimes when I look at this photo, I try to imagine Anastasia's blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair. But as there are no existing colour photos of her, just imagining has proven very difficult. I couldn't help but cry when looking at Anastasia eyes.

It has always left me frustrated. Why didn't the Romanovs hire Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky (renowned for his pioneering work in real colour photography) to photograph their formal portraits? Such photos would've looked modern and never grow old. Nonetheless, while this photo is black and white, Anastasia's eyes have never failed to capture me.

When I saw those icons of Anastasia and her family as passion bearers, I found it so emotional that I cried again. Somehow, I find it too painful to see them.

Louis Mountbatten kept this photo of Grand Duchess Maria in his bedroom. So lovely.

Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna and Louis Mountbatten

Louis Mountbatten (left) in 1914, when he was aged 13-14

Maria was a year older and their birthdays were only one day apart

"I was mad about her, and determined to marry her. You could not imagine anyone more beautiful than she was!"

"Oh, they (OTMA) were lovely and terribly sweet, far more beautiful than their photographs show. I was crackers about Marie, and was determined to marry her. She was absolutely lovely. I keep her photograph on the mantlepiece in my bedroom - always have."

Ignoring the fact that they were first cousins (cousin marriages were pretty common in royal families anyway), I think they would've made a lovely couple. Of course, I'm only saying this because it would've meant saving Maria from her tragic fate, which still greatly bothers me. Furthermore, Mountbatten had little in common with his wife Edwina, who had an alleged affair, or so I read. But did Maria also have a crush on Louis? And even if they were married and lived in England, would Maria have been able to cope with the death of her family?

On the other hand, Mountbatten was himself brutally murdered by the IRA in 1979, aged 79. Even if they had married, it is likely that Maria may have met her cruel fate anyway, albeit 61 years later. Or be forced to cope with the tragic loss of yet another loved one. She might never have had a peaceful life as a result. I can only hope there's a heaven and that the Romanov family and Louis are at peace.

A postcard sent to Louis from Maria and Anastasia.