GRIM FIND

Wairarapa Times-Age, 30 March 1939, Page 3

GRIM FIND

THOUSAND HUMAN SKELETONS REGIMENT OF DEATH. DISCOVERY IN RUSSIAN FOREST. Coo-coo, a curious Russian pastime, has presumably died out. It originated in Tsarist days among officers who found garrison life a little dull for their tastes. It was a simple game, says Colonel Paul Rodzianko, the famous horseman, in his reminiscences, “Tattered Banners,” published by the Seeley Service in London. “Two officers (after a good dinner) would toss for the pistol and go into a dark room. Then would run around calling *Coo-coo’ and hiding behind furniture, while the fellow with the pistol shot in the direction of the sound. After, say, three shots they would change over. The game sounds silly, but it was exciting enough at the time ...”

Naturally the authorities tried to stop Coo-coo, but it went on in spite of the number of deaths that resulted. When he was a boy, Colonel Rorzianko sometimes went to stay with his mother’s grandfather at Odessa. This old gentleman, head of the famous Strogonoff family, was born soon after the outbreak of the French Revolution:—

At an extremely early age he became A.D.C. to Alexander I and went to Paris with the Tsar, after Waterloo. “I never saw Napoleon,” he said, “but I saw his city just after he had left it —the Paris of 1815, lost, deserted, bereft of its Eagle, the streets full of foreign flags and uniforms. It was Russia that broke him.” When he died, old Strogonoff left estates the size of Yorkshire, with hundreds of square miles of forests that had not been touched since the days of Ivan the Terrible:— While cutting away the forest at Usviat in the province of Vitebsk (where Ney’s army had retired in the retreat from Moscow), some of our men discovered a clearing in which lay nearly 1000 human skeletons. We realised they must be a troop of French soldiers who had lost their way and perished from cold and starvation. By the bayonets and military buttons we sent to Paris they identified the regiment which had lain there fore nearly a hundred years. Wolf-hunting in the Ukraine in the old days must have been an exciting sport. The wolf would be attacked- and held at bay by the voldodav, a large rough-coated borzoi: — The hunters galloped up and dismounted. One would wait for an opportunity to jump on the wolf’s back and seize it by the ears. The dog was called off and a second hunter forced a wood: en bit in the wolf’s jaws and strapped his muzzle. Then the wolf could be brought back alive, which was the smart way of ending a chase. For three years before the Wai' Colonel Rodzianko went to England to compete for the King Edward VII Cup at Olympia. He won it outright, and when he returned to Petrograd he was given a dinner by the Chevalier Guards. It was not a successful party for him, because the Grand Duke Michael, who presided, had the King’s Cup filled with champagne—over two bottles —and ordered Colonel Rodzianko to stand up and drink it!

Having protested in vain, I lifted the great cup to my lips. Dimly aware of the laughter and cheers of other officers, I began to drink. “Pey Dodna. Pey Dodna.” The drinking song that lasts till all is consumed grew farther apd farther away. Before the cup was half emptj’ I fell unconscious owing to the fumes. My party ended sadly, before it had really begun! A few weeks after this incident, the War broke out and soon Colonel Rodzianko and his horses that had won the King’s Cup were at the front. During the first fighting a number of Austrian officers were captured by Colonel Rodzianko’s regiment. They were being given coffee and cigarettes in the officers’ mess when one came up and said: “Remember me two months ago?” I stared back unrecognisingly. “Aren’t you the Rodzianko I saw winning the King’s Cup at Qlympia this year?” < “Yes.” We stared at each other and laughed. In the distant golden world of two months ago we had met. I remembered him, a smart young officer “Mad keen” on riding, who never missed an event at Olympia.

After being at the front for two years Colonel Rodzianko was sent for by the Tsar and told that he had been chosen to go on a special mission to Italy. “On your return,” he was told, “I’ll see that you get a regiment to command”: —

I thanked him, but somehow this kind promise did not fill me with excitement as it should have. I am the most unpsychic of people, but when the Emperor said good-bye to me I felt that it was the last time. Something extraordinary in his eyes made me know we would never meet again. I will never forget that strange look

Later Colonel Rodzianko was to make a special journey to Ekaterinburg to try to clear up the mystery of the last days of the Russian Royal family. When he returned to England he took with him the Tsarevitch’s spaniel, Joy, who must have seen his master murdered.

Colonel Rodzianko has never returned to Russia. Since the War he has been able to make a living out of his expert horsemanship, and has trained many Army officers in England and in the Irish Free State. His book is the record of a life that has known great vicissitudes but has never lacked excitement. As a writer in “John ’O London’s Weekly” says: “Life in pre-War Russia, indeed, need never have been dull—one could always have a quiet game of Coo-Coo. . . ■