The Colonel was at the pub, plotting up an ethical mercenary company to do battle in Ukraine: here is the bizarre story of the Mozart Group.
As I stooped down the narrow passageway of Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, I could almost have tricked myself into believing that I was in a minor Graham Greene novel. This pub has, after all, been a meeting ground for secret agents and literary giants for centuries, unchanged in design and décor since 1667. The only thing spoiling my illusion was the clientele: a flood of distinctly un-clandestine American tourists, decked in the merchandise of whatever college they’d attended.
I was here to meet ‘The Colonel’, not just a run-of-the-mill colonel but someone who was always referred to as The Colonel, and the leader of a bold new start-up named ‘The Mozart Group’. Based not in the world of AI, crypto or kombucha brands, but the industry of modern warfare, they believe this to be a sector that is getting a long-needed revamp. Their elevator pitch goes thus:
‘Due to their special forces make-up, The Mozart Group is agile, integrated and expeditionary in nature, and designed to operate where other NGOs cannot. They are an unarmed, elite group of American-led special forces with a strong British contingent of expertise. Mozart is not a mercenary outfit or a traditional private military contractor, it is a pioneering idea: not to chase post-conflict contracts, or to engage in combat on the field – but to take the oppressors of the world on morally, ethically and professionally.’
In a world where perception and brand positioning are everything, why shouldn’t mercenaries rebrand themselves as altruistic and ethically minded interventionists? Warfare itself may now be asymmetric, but adhering to the algorithm of social media platforms is a new art of war. Mozart were adamant that they weren’t to be the western foil to the Russian-sponsored Wagner group – they were moral, they were different, and fancied Wolfgang an altogether classier breed of composer to boot.
It was my turn to order a round of pints for myself and the other characters who had been called to this audience with The Colonel. There was the man who had invited me, Christopher. He was short, dressed and sounded like Blighty was still at war with the Huns and was equipped with an umbrella-cum-walking cane. He was almost certainly the reason we found ourselves in this particular establishment, as a fan of a ‘proper pint’ in a ‘proper watering hole’. There was also some sort of academic (I believe he was a professor who specialised in munitions and explosives) and two other forgettable middle-aged soldier types who seemed to talk exclusively in acronyms.
I had just finished divvying out the drinks when I was beckoned to meet the main man formally. Colonel Andrew Millburn had one of those old-timey transatlantic accents that seems to have disappeared, largely preserved in public consciousness by old clips of Orson Welles. Colonel Millburn, I was surprised to discover, was actually British – he had attended the prestigious St Paul’s boys school and then studied law at UCL, before enlisting as a private in the US Marines. It was from there that he worked his way up; being commissioned as an officer from the ranks, he was even the man selected to lead the mission to defeat ISIS in Iraq, before retiring in 2019.
He offered me a firm handshake, a warm smile and the pleasantry of being ‘most welcome’. I was slightly disappointed, in truth, that he didn’t have any of the obvious eccentricities or accessories one might expect from someone in his position – there was no eye patch and no wet-shaved scalp. The only overt hint to his profession was his hair: he had the sort of square haircut that gives the distinct silhouette of a Lego figurine.
As I took my seat on the other side of the table, the meeting began. Colonel Millburn, fresh from an extended trip on the ground in Ukraine, gave us a little speech. The bad news was two-fold: firstly, The Mozart Group was burning $100,000 operating with more than 40 personnel, and secondly, due to mounting casualties, the training situation in Ukraine was becoming unsustainable. This, however, presented the good news: opportunity. The Mozart Group was the only NGO positioned to be able to carry out the vital work needed on the frontlines, only they could deliver the core skills required for rescue operations, medical operations and full-scale training of Ukrainian troops. The Colonel continued: Mozart is not just another private military company, it is a new concept and a noble one: to take the oppressors of the world on via ethical means as the most elite group of non-state, volunteer and unarmed soldiers in the world. The details of how, exactly, this was to be achieved remained somewhat unclear, but it certainly sounded pithy.
The attention now turned to those of us on the other side of the table and our reason for being in the room. After everyone else had done their spiel, it was my turn to say why I was there and, honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure. I explained that I hoped to spend time with Mozart to document this ethical interventionism; surely they would need the proof of their actions reported on for the world to witness, as well as captured for the annals of history. This was met with nods of approval.
A couple of days later, Christopher messaged to let me know that The Colonel ‘liked the cut of my jib’ and I was in. It was from this point that almost everything went wrong. I was added into a secretive Signal group with the Mozart inner circle called ‘TMG StratCom’, which Google informed me stood for ‘strategic communications’. This felt like being a silent WhatsApp group lurker on steroids. There was a constant stream of warfare tactic discussions and bodycam video footage from various missions. The footage shared was mainly of members evacuating civilians from areas where traditional NGOs and charities wouldn’t dare venture. These were people cut off, abandoned and often beyond the frontlines of the war, in, for example, places like Bakhmut. Western volunteers, unarmed and often under fire, were saving people’s lives seemingly through sheer willpower. It was brave and hard to argue against as a form of ‘ethical interventionism’.
The other videos shared were mostly pieces to camera from Colonel Millburn, standing tall amid explosions, wearing a flak jacket, helmet and Oakley sunglasses, explaining the situation on the ground – Apocalypse Now for the TikTok generation. The group was also a merry-go-round of members being added and removed, people I had never heard of either being welcomed or decried and blacklisted as traitors to the cause. Some used call signs and codenames which made the ever-growing factionalising and infighting a confusing mess of anonymous realpolitik, all played out on what was essentially an encrypted MSN Messenger. A few days later, I received an email which began – ‘The Colonel has asked if you would help us.’ It transpired that, due to a large donor suddenly pulling their funding, Mozart was in financial trouble and needed to raise $150,000 immediately.
With Mozart running out of cash and the discord turning litigious, the final nail in the coffin came via a military genre podcast appearance made by The Colonel. It was a show hosted by two Americans who looked like Joe Rogan and wore the sort of trousers that had more pockets than could ever possibly be made use of. The hosts and Colonel Millburn were discussing the war in Ukraine while drinking copious amounts of whisky. Colonel Millburn described Ukraine as ‘a corrupt, fucked-up society’, led by ‘fucked-up people’, and went on to accuse the high command of committing atrocities and killing Russian prisoners ‘who surrendered’.
It was at this moment the point of no return was reached: a rival faction to The Colonel had successfully and covertly commandeered the official LinkedIn page and was posting accusatory statements about misappropriated funds in strip clubs in Kyiv, a culture of drunken and abusive behaviour within the group and perhaps worst of all, letting a dog urinate wherever it pleased inside a borrowed apartment.
All of this coupled with the aftermath of the podcast episode being published online meant the funding was gone and now too the patronage and goodwill of Ukraine was truly torpedoed. The pioneering dream of Mozart was now dead and very soon after The Colonel tweeted in confirmation. ‘The Mozart Group ended today,’ he wrote. ‘The name and entity had become the subject of litigation and a distraction from our core mission: training Ukrainian soldiers and rescuing civilians. But, the mission and the people continue’.
Ultimately, these pioneers had failed – some good was done and lives were saved, but as they say: war is hell, and so is start-up life.
