I was there during the Revolution that happened in Russia ten years ago. I was there in the Great Palace of Saint Petersburg built by Catherine many, many years before. This palace was the winter home of Tzar Nicholas and his royal family, just one of their many homes. I was there when Tzaritsa Alexandra let the monk Grigori Rasputin into the Palace to heal the prince and heir to the Romanov throne, Alexei, of his hemophilia and of course I was there when Tzar Nicholas banished Rasputin for betraying them. I saw everything and as a mere servant, I traveled to every palace with the Romanovs and knew each one like the back of my hand. However, my story begins in a small Russian town many miles from Saint Petersburg.
I was the oldest of four children in that household. My father was faithful to his Tzar and served him in the military. This left my mother alone with four mouths to feed. Money was hard to come by and when I was only seven years old my uncle sent a telegram to mother. Shortly after Mother, grateful for one less mouth to feed, put me on a train heading to Saint Petersburg.
Since I was seven years old, I served the Romanovs in the Catherine Palace. Me, Dimitri, a servant in the Catherine Palace. My duties were in the kitchen, helping Cook Khabarovsk prepare the grand meals for the Romanovs. Of course being a lowly kitchen boy, my duties also included fetching the Tzar, Tzaritsa, the Heir, or the Grand Duchesses a glass of water. But being the lowest of the servants, I never got up close to the royals. I handed the water glass to one of the hand maids who in turn gave the Romanov the glass of water.
So my life continued on like this for the next three years. Of course no one expected that the Romanov line would come to an end after three hundred long years and especially the tragic way it came to an end.
The night the Bolsheviks stormed through the palace, I was sound asleep on my cot in the servant's quarters. The cook aroused me that night and exclaimed in fear that the palace was under siege. The blood hungry Bolsheviks were out for Romanov blood that night. Everything was in turmoil that lonely night.
"Hurry, children!" Tzar Nicholas called for his children. The four grand duchesses picked up their long skirts and followed quickly behind their parents while five year old Alexei, the hemophiliac was being carried by his father. I watched them hurry for an escape route, and they were almost there, when-
Anastasia shrieked, "my music box!" The rascal quickly turned around and raced back to her playroom where she set the music box on her doll house. Appalled, the Dowager raced after her youngest grand daughter.
"Anastasia! Anastasia!" she frantically called after her grand daughter.
I was torn between escaping with the rest of the royals, and chasing after the dowager and princess to help them escape. I wanted to escape this nightmare as soon as I could. Eventually, I turned around and trailed behind the Dowager Empress. Hearing gunshots, I stopped and turned around. One by one, I watched Tzar Nicholas, Tzaritsa Alexandra, Alexei, Olga, Tatiana, and Maria fall lifeless to the ground. The Tzar still clutching the prince for dear life. From that moment, I knew that I had to help the Dowager and the youngest Grand Duchess find safety.
I knew where the eight year old was headed, and being a mere servant, I knew a shortcut-through the servants' passage that snaked through the walls. All the servants used this, we were not to be seen traveling through the palace. The royals barely knew of the existence of the passage, but then again they had no need to know about it. I reached the playroom simultaneously as Anastasia and the Dowager. I hesitated about opening the door in the wall. But I did to see the two royals rush out the door. Horrified, I ran after them and tugged at their sleeves.
"This way, through the servants' quarters!" I exclaimed pushing them through door.
"My music box!" Anastasia said, her voice scared and desperate.
"Go now!" I said to her before pushing her into the passage and sliding the door shut behind her. I got the remaining living Romanovs through the passage mere moments before bolshevik soldiers stormed into the room. The next thing I remembered was waking up the the next day to find the palace completely deserted with bodies of servants and others scattering the floor. However, I didn't find the bodies of Nicholas or his family. The Bolsheviks must have taken them.
My wife of course doesn't remember any of this, even though she lived through it just as I had. Her mind, blanketed by amnesia, allowed her to forget the details of that tragic night. My wife if you haven't already guessed is Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov. The funny part, she remembers the boy who opened the wall, but she doesn't remember the exact details of the night nor that I was the servant boy who opened the wall.
To Be Continued...