PrEm Ji

WOUNDS OF SPRING - THE LAST DAY OF ROMANOVS

 

 

 

WOUNDS OF SPRING

 

It was a cold evening in the spring of 1918, precisely July 16th. The city of Yekaterinburg* remained in total darkness as the Czech contingent of the White Army* were fast approaching. 

“Take all Nagan revolvers from the guards,” ordered Commandant Yakov Yurovsky, the Ural Cheka chief (secret police) to Pavel Medvedev, one of the sentries, guarding Ipatiev House: the house of special purpose, where the Tsar family was under secret confinement. And within less than two minutes, twelve revolvers were brought into to the commandant’s office.

“The White army is desperately in search of Romanov*,” told Yurovsky while examining the revolvers. “Don’t you hear the gun fire?”

“You are right, Comrade,” said Pavel Medvedev.

“It’s already 8. P.M... We must finish them tonight,” a crooked smile appeared on the wicked face of Commandant Yurovsky.

“The Tsar?”

“The Tsar family... None should remain alive,” he had a gulp of Vodka... “Notify the guards, not to panic, when they hear the firing,” he started pulling down hairs from his shabby beard. 

 

Shortly before midnight, two members of the Extraordinary Commission of the Yekaterinburg Soviet reached the Ipatiev House.

"Comrade Yurovsky, the situations are getting worse... We should not provide the Whites even the slightest amount of hope,” one of them said.

“If the Whites could release Romanov, then revolution is gone!” said the other Jewish revolutionary. “Try to minimize the number of Russian soldiers.... they would not shoot the Tsar... Particularly his beautiful daughters!”

“Russians still believe that Tzar is sent by God to rule over them!” Commandant Yakov Yurovsky said.

A grim smile appeared on their faces...

 

It had been seventy eight days, since they were staying in the Ipatiev House. Everyone was fast asleep and the Empress Alexandra tightly held the feeble hand of Alexei, the heir. Tsar Nicholas-II opened the door responding to the continuous knocking on the bedroom door.

“Nicolai Romanov, wake them up and get ready soon,” ordered Commandant Yakov Yurovsky. “You are being shifted from here”

 

Within less than an hour, all were ready for the journey. Like every responsible father, Emperor desperately wanted to avoid every possible opportunity that the Bolshevik Jews, whom he hated the most, could insult his beautiful daughters. Tsar and Alexei, the heir, they wore soldiers” shirts and caps. For one second, Tsar’s weary eyes met those of Olga, his elder daughter.

“You could have got married to that foreign prince... Dear Olga...”

“Forgive me... Dad... I am Russian and wish to remain so,” she pressed her father’s hand tightly. 

“Now, let’s move,” told the Tsar while carrying the heir in his arms.

“Where are we going?” asked Alexei, the heir in sleepy tone.

“To the basement cellar, for taking a photograph...”

 

The Tsar family, the maid, the doctor, the cook and the waiters soon left their rooms. Anastasia carried her small dog of Japanese breed. Yurovsky, his assistant and the two members of the Extraordinary Commission of the Yekaterinburg Soviet followed them and at last they entered the ground floor of Ipatiev House. 

“Bring some chairs,” ordered Yurovsky.

Quickly, his assistant brought in three chairs to the cellar room, which were offered to the Tsar, Empress, and the Alexei, the heir. Tsar’s daughters, all of them carrying small pillows, stood behind the empress. Doctor Botkin stood behind the heir. Anna Demidova, the maid, stood beside Anastasia, the fourth daughter of Tsar and the two servants Alexei Trupp and Ivan Kharitonov stood against the wall. 

“Good... Now wait here,” his words hailed out a chilling silence!

 

Commandant Yakov Yurovsky returned quickly, after making sure of the truck to transport their bodies, leading the execution squad. They were the notorious operatives of Ural Cheka... G. P. Nikulin, M. A. Medvedev (Kudrin), P. Z. Yermakov, S. P. Vaganov, A. G. Kabanov, P. S. Medvedev, V. N. Netrebin, and Y. M. Tselms, were some of the known members of the eleven members sleuths.

The Tsar family could easily guess their ill-fate, but none of them betrayed their dignity.

“Nikolai Aleksandrovich Romanov, in view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you...” Yurovsky read out the order issued by the Ural Executive Committee:

“What? What?” Tsar was stunned.

“Ilyich decided it long back, Nikolai Romanov,” he repeated the order.

“Jesus,” the empress tried to cross herself though desperately she wanted to remind her husband, “You are the Tsar...”

For one second, their eyes met. And for Yurovsky, it was the finest opportunity to avenge countless Jewish pogroms conducted in Tsarist Russia and to the Emperor, it was the utmost insult: getting butchered by a Jew, whom he hated the most!

In a quick move, Yurovsky raised his Nagan revolver firmly and the Tsar and Empress were shot almost point blank range. The Sovereigns dropped dead together. 

The execution squad began firing uncontrollably. A gunshot pierced the head of Grand Duchess Olga... Her golden-brown hair and beautiful blue eyes were soon drenched in hot blood...

“Good-bye heir,” Yurovsky, as if demon processed, pumped two bullets to the head, right behind the ear of Alexei. Another bullet from his gun, through the back of her head, killed Tatiana.
The closed cellar was filled with smoke and the burnt smell of human flesh.

“Some of them are not dead,” said one of the executions.

“Shoot them again and do the bayonets charge,” ordered Yurovsky.

Anna Demidova, Alexandra’s maid, was stabbed to death with bayonets though she tried to shield herself with a small pillow carrying expensive gems and jewels. The young girls were shot again and again... P.Z.Yermako stabbed them repeatedly as bayonets could not pierce some of their corset, to stop their violent shrieks... Anastasia was brutally finished off with the bayonet stabs, together with her cute little dog. Some other executioners found extreme happiness in crushing their cherubic faces with gun-butts... The precious diamonds, hidden inside of their clothes scatted all around the blood-soaked cellar.

“It took hardly twenty minutes,” said Yurovsky while opening the window. He picked up two blood soaked pillows, upon which the Tsar and heir sat earlier. “The last remains of Monarchy... It belongs to the revolution...”

 

Their bodies were transported to an abandoned mine shaft. The execution squad stripped their bodies to confiscate even the last grain of riches. Their lustful eyes roamed through the torn bodies of the empress and her daughters.

“We could have killed him before her eyes,” someone told while pouring Sulfuric acid on the face of Alexei, who was still bleeding... 

Then he proceeded with the “acid anointment process" on the naked bodies of royal girls... The smell of burnt hair started spreading inside of his lungs... He inhaled more and more of it with increased animosity! 

Their bodies were later abandoned, deep, in the mine-shaft. 

 

1.3 kilograms of diamonds and precious stones retrieved from the clothes of Anastasia, Tatiana, Olga, and Maria and the personal writings of the Monarch were spread upon the discussion table of Yekaterinburg Soviet.

“Relics of Monarchy,” opined one of the local Bolshevik leaders. “What are you going to do with these, Comrade Yurovsky?”

“We will send them safely to the Central Committee... But, there are possibilities that the Whites might find out the dead-bodies,” Yurovsky raised an element of doubt.

“In that case, let’s retrieve the corpses within two or three days and dump them in some secret place,” a senior Bolshevik replied.

And at last, the Tsar family found solace inside of a shallow pit. Alexandra, the Tsarina slept with absolute sadness as her dearest son and a precious daughter were missing!

Soon after the execution, the city of Yekaterinburg fell to the White Army and the precious diamonds disappeared in the secret accounts of Swiss Banks!

 

Trotsky was unaware of the execution of Tzar Family as he was away, busy with the formation of Red Army in places far away from St.Peter’s burgh.

“Illich decided it long back,” one of his comrades informed him after a couple of weeks. “The decision was taken in haste.”

“It is not Illych who decided the fate of Tzar!” Trotsy smiled.

“Then?”

Trotsky didn’t reply anything.

 

Richest banker of the United States put a red ‘into’ (X) mark upon the black and white photograph of Tzar Nicholas in royal regalia as he was the first American who was informed about the brutal massacre.

 

"You know not what you do," Tsar Nicholas II used to appear regularly in the nightmares of Yakov Yurovsky, a corruption-free Bolshevik!                   

♠   

 

Premji                                                       

  • Author: PrEmJi PrEmJi (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 26th, 2021 00:32
  • Category: Unclassified
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Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    fantastic detail, sadly however thorough your background study I fear there's an element of the story lost to the winds of time,
    rarely can scholarly creativity match the absurdity of ill-fated reality..
    I laud your literary ambition, I commend the integrity and respect you imbued into your delicately balanced write and mostly, I appreciate you choosing to share your unquestionable talent, thank you!

    • PrEm Ji

      Thank you so much... Tzar was a hunter earlier... he became the hunted later...



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