The Captive Who Walked Out an Officer

There are scenes in Ungern that, on their own, would carry an entire novel.

One of the most striking tells of a Red NCO captured by the Baron's men. On him, they find a Party card. Under normal circumstances, the verdict would be immediate. But the men who have watched him fight speak in his defense: he is perhaps not a fanatic, only a soldier swept up by the civil war. He must therefore be brought before Ungern. And everyone knows what that can mean.

The prisoner understands that he is playing for his life in the space of a few seconds. Yet rather than break down, he prepares. He puts his uniform in order, smooths down his hair, polishes his boots, adjusts his cap, and walks toward the tent — for life or for death. The phrase is in the book, and the whole scene rests in that walk. You can almost see him hold his breath before stepping through.

Then everything turns. Ungern questions him at length — dryly, severely. But when he learns that the prisoner is a former NCO of the Imperial service, he decides in a word: not only does he spare him, he reinstates him and promises promotion if he serves well. Five minutes later, the former captive is tearing off his bandages and already sewing on his new stripes.

It is this kind of episode that makes the book so captivating. What you find there is not only Ungern's dark legend but the unpredictability of a man able, in the same war, to inspire absolute fear and a strange kind of loyalty. Through these testimonies, the Baron ceases to be a historical silhouette: he becomes a presence again.