Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

When Ned and Ivashov arrived in Ufa, Siberian units were already digging fortified positions on the heights along the Belaya’s east bank, opposite the stretch where the Red Army was expected to attempt a crossing. Red artillery units had set up lately along the western approaches of the city and had begun to shell outlying villages before their infantry moved in. The Bolsheviks had arrived so quickly that, until earlier in the day, steamboats and barges continued to move up and downstream, oblivious to the coming battle. Trotsky was rumored to have given such high priority to taking Ufa that his Southern Group Commander, Mikhail Frunze, would personally supervise the river crossing and the assault against Ufa.

The unit designated to lead the attack, the Twenty-Fifth Rifle Division under Vasily Chapayev, had advanced with great speed from Samara to Buguruslan to Belebey, against minimal White resistance. Since then, however, an unexpected development had induced Frunze to hold Chapayev’s division in reserve. At this point in his presentation, Panin paused and stared intently at Ivashov, as if expecting him to complete the briefing.

“What could possibly induce Frunze to take his best division out of the fight before the most important battle of his career?” Ivashov asked. But the look on his face showed that he already knew the answer.

“The Maid, it seems,” Panin answered, looking Ivashov straight in the eye. “General Dutov has reported that she defied orders to join the Cossacks’ assault on Orenburg, and instead has set out to the north with a raiding party. Might either of you be in a position to comment on that?”

“All I can tell you is that we were with the Maid when her column traveled to Orenburg,” Ivashov replied. “And we remained there overnight with the detachment that delivered the armored cars and other heavy weapons to the Orenburg Cossacks. But Zhanna took the remaining troops and cavalry north before nightfall and we never saw them again.”

“I see,” Panin replied with tired eyes as he rubbed the dark bristles on his chin. “How would you estimate the strength of her column? And when did it head north?”

“Four nights ago, Colonel,” Ivashov answered. “The column included her own brigade and a large number of volunteers, both Cossacks and otherwise. I reckon she had upwards of two thousand sabers and fifteen hundred bayonets, plus light artillery and machine gun crews.”

“Did she disclose to you her objective?”

Ivashov hesitated.

“Buzuluk,” he answered at last, giving Panin a cautious look. “I reckon Buguruslan, too, if she can reach it.”

“And do you believe she can?” Panin demanded.

“Let one thing be clear,” Ivashov declared. “Tolstov’s Cossacks could never have taken Uralsk without Zhanna. Believe it or not, the girl seems to have an unerring instinct for strategy and tactics, as well as uncommonly good luck. More than that, the men traveling with her are among the best we had at Uralsk. I think she will be a very painful thorn in the Red Army’s side.”

“Painful enough for Frunze to divert Chapayev’s division to deal with her? Think carefully before you answer. Where Chapayev goes could tip the balance.”

Ivashov cast a sidelong glance at Ned before continuing.

“In truth, I believe so, and here is the reason,” Ivashov continued. “Chapayev hates the Cossacks with a deep passion. He captured Uralsk in January, and the fighting was bitter indeed. I believe he will not rest until he has avenged his losses to Zhanna and her men. By all accounts, Chapayev is a cruel and vengeful man.”

“Perhaps so, but the question remains as to whether Frunze will let him slip the leash before Ufa is taken,” the colonel answered, now pacing back and forth across the room. “For if he does, it will make Frunze’s attack the weaker, and perhaps open the opportunity for our side to counterattack. But to do that, we must set aside a reserve, and General Lebedev has forbidden it.”

“Certainly he cannot sustain such folly!” Ned protested. “It would be madness not to hold a reserve in such a situation. Any cadet would know that.”

Panin stopped and gave Ned a pointed stare.

“Any cadet, but not our Chief of Staff,” he replied acidly. “Thank you, gentlemen. I will report your information to General Khanzin. If Chapayev heads south from Belebey, we will find a way to hold a reserve. Should Frunze falter, we must be prepared to crush him once and for all on the Belaya.”

“Yes, sir,” Ivashov replied with a stiff salute. “Is that all, sir?”

“For you, staff captain, yes,” the colonel replied. “But there is someone here who wishes to speak to Captain du Pont. If you will kindly take a seat, I will escort him down the hall and come back for you in a few minutes.”