When Maria Ignatieva, Mikhail Tukhachevsky's wife, walked along the platform, men involuntarily turned to look at her, for she was a true beauty. A luxurious commander's carriage, reminiscent of a palace, was already waiting at the station: the walls were adorned with bronze candelabras and mirrors in expensive frames, and the salon featured sofas upholstered in blue velvet. This carriage had once belonged to Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolayevich, and then it came to Colonel Kappel, who refused it, considering it immodest. The carriage was planned to be sent north, but during one of the crossings, it was captured by the Reds and became a trophy of Mikhail Tukhachevsky.

The Civil War, which brought hunger, devastation, and death, was something naive Masha tried to ignore, and she did not refuse dubious sources of provisions. Tukhachevsky allocated her an entire carriage and a guard of Red Army soldiers. Almost every day, the guards brought bundles of food to the carriage. Maria often visited her parents, bringing them treats. Once, she brought three sacks of flour, six sacks of potatoes, several boxes of English canned goods, a box of French cookies, and half a cow's carcass. All this was happening in a country ravaged by war. Soon, Maria's trips were discovered by the Revolutionary Military Council, and Mikhail was summoned for a conversation.

In December 1918, Maria came to visit her husband again. However, Mikhail greeted her coldly. "You have let me down," he said. "How?" Maria was frightened. "You have stained me from head to toe! My wife, a petty trader. You will never understand. But we live in a new Russia, and no rituals or entries in church books are needed for divorce. You are free!"

Holding back tears, Maria ran behind the carriage, took out a pistol, and, cocking it, held it to her temple. A few seconds later, a shot rang out. Mikhail Tukhachevsky did not deem it necessary to attend her funeral.