Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

At this, the staff officers cranked their field telephones into service, barked out fresh commands and, a few minutes later, the bugle changed its tune. Once the new line of attack was agreed upon and the batteries assigned fresh targets, Denisov lifted Zhanna onto a waiting Austin and helped her crawl into the turret. Moments later, the vehicle sped off toward the front lines with banner unfurled. The unexpected sight of her tattered and smoke-stained battle flag drew a shout of triumph from the Siberians while sending a wave of shock and apprehension through the Red trenches. Soon the Whites breached the innermost barrier and the Reds fell back.

By sunset, the Siberian Army had taken the entire northern sector and the Red defenders had withdrawn to an inner perimeter closer to the city center.

From that day onward, the Cult of the Maid was firmly established. No longer was it only Zhanna’s volunteer brigade that pledged their undying loyalty; now all the officers and troops who took part in the battle for Uralsk rallied firmly behind her.

* * *

The Siberian probes and feints against the city’s defenders continued through the night, while Tolstov’s staff stayed awake to determine the least costly way to take the city’s inner stronghold. The Chagan and Ural Rivers still posed formidable obstacles, and the Cossack commander had no stomach for the kind of house-to-house fighting that might be required to clear a path further into the city from the north. A fresh riverborne assault seemed unavoidable now. While it had been part of his original plan, Tolstov had canceled it when he postponed the initial attack. Since an assault by barge and boat required the cover of darkness, the Siberians would have all day to rest before mustering for a final multi-pronged assault.

Shortly before dark the next day, Zhanna appeared at the command bunker, somewhat wobbly and with one arm in a sling, for the final pre-assault briefing. Several officers with naval experience had joined the usual staff officers and field commanders. One of them, a slight-framed major of about thirty who bore a faint resemblance to the Supreme Ruler, explained the challenge.

“The shortest approach is from the west, across the Chagan, but this is where the Red defenses are strongest. We have attacked there before and failed,” he began. “All direct lines of approach from the south and east are unsuitable for reasons we have discussed before. In my view, the most promising option is to attack once again across the Chagan, but only as a diversion, while sending a larger force up the Ural River to land north of the city and break through from the east. Facing simultaneous attack from east and west, the Reds will then lack the men to face our main thrust, once again delivered from the north.”

General Tolstov grunted his approval and looked around the room to find nods of assent from his staff and field commanders.

“Do we have enough barges and gunboats?” Tolstov asked.

“They are waiting downstream, general,” the major replied. “Along with the men, munitions, and supplies needed. There is only one remaining obstacle.”

“Out with it, then, major!” Tolstov barked. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“It’s the wind, sir,” the major replied. “We have very few vessels equipped with engines to tow the barges, and fuel is short. We must rely on oars and sail, but the boats cannot move forward against both wind and current. We need a steady west wind, both to carry us upstream and to spread a smokescreen before us upon landing. But we have none, sir. The air remains stubbornly still.”

“Is there no other way to move our forces upstream?” Tolstov demanded, his face growing flushed, and with beads of perspiration breaking out on his face.

“I know of no other,” the officer answered. “We must wait for the wind to rise.”

“No, we shall not wait,” Tolstov answered firmly. “We shall have our wind, and have it on time. Zhanna, let’s go at once to the chapel. We have important business there.”

“And what business might that be, general?” the Maid answered with a wry smile.

“To pray for a west wind,” Tolstov replied with a smile of his own.

“I will do my best, sir,” Zhanna agreed with a vigorous nod. “And, surely, if He sees you praying by my side, His pleasure will be all the greater!”

This drew a good-natured laugh from the officers, who agreed to adjourn for an hour until Tolstov and the Maid returned. When they did, and the officers stepped outside the tent to greet the pair, Ned was the first to notice the Maid’s banner streaming eastward as Paladin held it aloft.

“General Tolstov!” Ned shouted.

“What is it now?” Tolstov answered irritably.

“It’s the wind! The west wind!” Ned exclaimed.

The general looked up to see the banner waving and heavy clouds scudding across the sky. So taken aback was he at the sight that he dropped to one knee, bowed his head and reached out to hand Zhanna his wooden general’s baton.