Not content merely to watch, the Royal Scots made a swift attack on the north end of town during the afternoon, dislodging the Bolsheviks and recapturing the hospital. What they then discovered would probably be dismissed as fiction if it were not so well-documented. When the Bolsheviks took the hospital without resistance on the morning of the 11th, their commander, true to form, had immediately ordered that all the Allied patients be shot. A high-pitched voice then interrupted, declaring that the first man who pulled a trigger would be shot himself. All eyes turned to see a beautiful woman step forward wearing the standard male Red Army uniform. She turned out to be a fellow officer--and the commander's lover. The Bolshevik commander grudgingly rescinded his order and then led his men in an attack on the 18-pounders in the ravine. Shortly afterward, he was mortally wounded and was brought back to the hospital to die in the presence of "Lady Olga," as the Allies called the woman officer. She stayed to help tend the wounded soldiers of both sides, even after the Scots had taken back the hospital. In spite of that good fortune at the hospital, the situation in Toulgas worsened on the morning of November 13. Infantry attacks against the bridge and ravine had proved fruitless for the Bolsheviks, so they again switched tactics. They started an almost continuous area bombardment of Toulgas, endangering soldiers and civilians alike. On average, a heavy shell hit the town every 15 seconds throughout the day. When the Allied soldiers looked at some of the shell fragments, they saw to their disgust and dismay that the shells had been manufactured in the United States--a portion of the supplies sent to Archangel that they had been assigned to guard.  As darkness closed in, the situation turned critical. Ammunition was low, and since the one telegraph line to the rear had been cut, neither supplies nor reinforcements were on the way. The temperature had plunged as well, bringing on the first heavy snowfall of winter. One advantage, at least for the Americans, was that no communications meant no outside British control. Captain Boyd of B Company was in charge of the garrison as ranking Allied officer. Deciding to use his powers to the fullest, Boyd proposed a daring gamble to break the siege. Boyd had been impressed by the way young Lieutenant Cudahy kept a cool head under fire. Since he had to stay in town as commander, Boyd put Cudahy in charge of B Company with orders to do what the Reds had failed to do on the 11th--mount a surprise flank attack from the western swamp.  In the faint light just before dawn on November 14, the American company carefully moved past Allied sentries into the wooded swamp. Although the Bolsheviks had surrounded Toulgas, Allied sharpshooters had taken care of many of the Bolshevik pickets on the perimeter the previous afternoon, so it was easy enough to get through their lines. Cudahy's specific objective was a group of huts near the south end that was being used as a supply depot. But more than a simple raid was intended. Boyd hoped that a sharp attack would convince the enemy that large reinforcements had arrived and that it would be wise to pull back. The thick layer of slush under several inches of powdery snow made the going agonizingly slow, as Cudahy led his men in a wide arc and then formed them into a skirmish line at the edge of a meadow. Across the meadow were the huts, along with some Bolsheviks milling about preparing breakfast. With his force still undetected, the lieutenant gave the order to open fire. By a lucky chance the Red detachment's commissar, or political officer, was killed by one of the first American bullets. When the Bolshevik soldiers witnessed this, and then saw the Americans charge out of the woods, they panicked and began running in wild disorder back toward their larger force overlooking the bridge.  Cudahy was deciding how best to follow up on this success when one of the B Company men peered into a hut and found it was crammed with rifle ammunition. Seeing an opportunity, Cudahy told the men to clear the area around the hut. Then he gave the order to set it on fire. Like a shooting gallery gone mad, the uproar of the exploding rifle rounds filled the air for miles. When the Bolshevik commander near the bridge heard the commotion, he assumed that a rescue force had broken through from the rear and was trying to trap his force. Consequently, he ordered his men to pull back from the south end of town. By another lucky chance, the captains of the gunboats had decided at about the same time that the increased cold posed too great a danger of ice forming on the river, and they withdrew their vessels up the Dvina toward Seltso. With their superiority in artillery gone, the Bolshevik ground troops felt they, too, had no choice but to begin a general withdrawal.  The siege of Toulgas was over. It had cost the Allies 28 killed and 70 wounded. A conservative estimate put the Bolshevik dead at 500. When the men of the garrison finally heard the news of the armistice days after the rest of the world, they thought that their prayers had been answered and that their own withdrawal orders were forthcoming. But the Allies were too heavily engaged in the continuing Russian civil war to withdraw so soon. Also, thick ice had formed in the sea around Archangel just as it did on the Dvina and prevented the use of transports, even those with powerful icebreaker bows. During the rest of 1918 and the first two months of 1919, the Allied garrison had several more sharp encounters, though the Bolsheviks never made as great an effort to take Toulgas while the Americans were there. Bolshevik prisoners later told their captors that the Soviet enlisted men had threatened to shoot their officers if another siege was ordered. The Americans were pleased with their reputation of toughness, but they were positively ecstatic when word came in the spring that they were set to leave Russia. On June 3, 1919, B Company and the rest of the 339th boarded transports at Archangel and steamed away.  Funeral for the fallen of the 339th Infantry Regiment, White Chapel Cemetery, 1930. Though the Great War had been over for nearly 12 years, some families did not receive their sons home until 1930 with the return of Infantry Regiment #339. Fondly known as the “Polar Bears”, the unit spent the duration of the war in Siberia, fighting the Bolshevik forces that had overthrown the Czar the year prior. Above, Mr. And Mrs. Frank Skocelas are reunited with their son, Private Andrew Skocelas, one final time. The veterans of the 339th did not feel that they had done much good for Russia. They called themselves "The Polar Bears" at reunions in the years afterward and worked to keep alive the memory of their remarkable exploits. One man did so in a very personal way. When Cudahy's wife gave birth to a daughter, he made "Toulgas" her middle name. |
