Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Not I alone, but rather God through me,” she corrected, pausing now to let her eyes move from one man’s face to the other. “But it is not enough that God be on our side in battle. We must also show that we are on His side. That means the army must pray daily. And no gambling, swearing, or drunkenness. Even more, you must send away all the women from camp, except for those who are doctors and nurses. And before we march on Uralsk, each man must clear his soul in confession of all the evil he has done. That, my friends, will pave our road to victory.”

The officers looked at each other in disbelief and muttered their displeasure, while a concerned expression passed over General Tolstov’s suntanned face.

“I see that you disagree, general,” she continued, facing him with her slender arms crossed before her. “But we must all understand that no strength in my hands or yours is sufficient to defeat the Bolsheviks if our souls lack faith. Though there be a million of us, if our faith is eaten away by little things, we shall be beaten back and perish.”

As the officers did not stop their grumbling and head-shaking, Zhanna made one final appeal.

“Believe me, gentlemen, it is not easy for me to stand here and ask this of you,” she told them. “But we can win only if we believe ourselves worthy of it and dedicate ourselves to a new and better Russia after we prevail. I promise you this much: if we follow God’s commands, He will give us everything we need and lead us to sure victory. And Siberia shall remain free for generations to come.”

Ned looked around the staff tent at the Cossack faces gathered there. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but he found a haunted look in the eyes of the senior officers, including Tolstov, that made him wonder if Zhanna hadn’t struck a nerve. For the primary problem with Siberian morale was precisely what Zhanna had pointed out: until now, they had believed in nothing but a mulish opposition to disrupting their traditional way of life. Now that the Reds had pushed the Ural Host to the brink of extinction, perhaps a few superficial changes of the kind the Maid suggested would not be out of the question, if for no other reason than to distract the men from the perils facing them and to restore a modicum of discipline. And, to Ned’s surprise, the more he thought about it, the more reasonable this proposition sounded.

* * *

When the discussion in the staff tent concluded, Zhanna’s party rode back to the camp where the train had first delivered her volunteers. The troops had evidently been alerted to the Maid’s arrival, for the riders passed through throngs of cheering soldiers all along the camp’s central avenue. But the soldiers’ attitude changed completely the next morning when they learned of Zhanna’s new rules, which Tolstov had endorsed after a late-night meeting with Colonel Denisov, his chief of staff. From now on, there would be daily worship services, no cursing or vile oaths, no more loose women and, worst of all, no vodka.

To enforce these rules during the men’s training, Tolstov brought in his most experienced officers and sub officers, many of them former ruffians themselves, to rule this ”mob of roaring devils and untamed hellions,“ as he called them. And Zhanna launched the effort in person. After breakfast the next morning, she marched into the sector where the camp followers lived, backed by a score of dismounted Cossacks. Borrowing a Mauser pistol from one of them, she fired two shots in the air to summon the women and their bleary-eyed patrons from the collection of shabby tents and ramshackle carts where they slept.

“This is a military training area!” the Maid announced in an officious voice. “Only officers and soldiers of the Siberian Army are permitted here. Everyone else, pack your things and leave by noon or I will have you ejected by force!”

Without waiting for a response, Zhanna moved further on and fired the Mauser yet again, repeating her announcement. She did this for a third time before retracing her path back to the staff tent. Then, promptly at noon, she and the Cossacks reappeared, this time on horseback, and swept through the encampment at a gallop, forcing the tradeswomen to flee in a mess of tears and bundles. One particularly brazen prostitute refused to budge, whereupon Zhanna struck her in the shoulder with a horsewhip. The woman yielded, but only after unleashing a torrent of vulgar curses.

On the matter of profanity, whenever the Maid heard someone take the name of God in vain, she ordered him deprived of his next meal. In this, Zhanna wielded her influence even over General Tolstov, who often swore and cursed. Before long, she caught him in the act.

“I swear those goddamned bloody Bolsheviks will pay for their sins at Uralsk!” he told one of his officers.

“And so will you, if you don’t stop with your oaths!” Zhanna scolded. “We must allow no profanity in our army, whether high or low.”