Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

Ned cast a questioning glance at Ivashov and received a vacant shrug in return. He knew no one in Ufa and was mystified as to who might want to see him. But as he was in no position to refuse, he followed Panin down a long narrow corridor. For a long and uncomfortable moment, Ned thought of the many sinister murders of officers and politicians at Omsk whose bodies were found in the Irtysh, and he wondered if his trust in Panin were misplaced. In the next instant, the Russian ushered him into a small and dimly lit office. There, a tall and ascetic-looking officer wearing the usual British uniform, but with actual British rather than Russian insignia, sat at a writing desk scribbling a message. The officer, a balding fellow in his early forties wearing wire-rim spectacles, waved Ned to a seat and continued writing.

“So glad to meet you, Captain du Pont,” the man said brightly, suddenly looking up with wide eyes like a startled bird. “My name is Rawlings. By the way, splendid work you’ve been doing at Omsk with the wireless network. We received our own wireless set here last week from Lieutenant Colonel Neilson and it’s been of enormous value.”

“Is that so?” Ned asked, taken aback that Rawlings knew about his work with the wireless network and that Western Army Headquarters had been brought into the network so fast.

“Absolutely, couldn’t do without it,” Rawlings drawled. Ned noticed that the man held the rank of lieutenant colonel. On a hunch, he sized up Rawlings as a career intelligence officer. “Just today, we received new reporting from London on Trotsky’s strategy for the Eastern Front. It casts the battle here in an entirely new light, I should think.”

“How so?” Ned inquired.

“It seems the prospect of General Denikin’s summer offensive in South Russia has the Reds terribly worried,” the officer replied. “A linkup between his AFSR and Admiral Kolchak’s Cossacks on the Lower Volga at Tsaritsyn or Saratov would be a strategic nightmare for the Bolsheviks. That’s why Lenin and Trotsky have decided to go all-in to destroy Khanzin’s Western Army at Ufa and drive him back across the Urals by mid-summer.”

“But a Red counteroffensive against an overextended Western Army was predictable many weeks ago,” Ned replied. “What I find shocking is how the Stavka could have ignored the threat for so long.”

“That’s what our military mission has been telling Kolchak and Lebedev since before the river ice thawed,” Rawlings agreed with a tired smile. “The good news now is that Omsk is finally listening. I suspect the Red Army may be in for a rude awakening at the Belaya.”

“But Colonel Panin just told me that Lebedev has expressly forbidden holding back any reserves. Everything is to be thrown into stopping the initial Red attack.”

“Ah, yes, that’s true for the moment, but hopefully not for long,” Rawlings said. “You see, your Colonel Barrows arrived earlier this week at Omsk with an offer to release additional American arms to Kolchak’s forces, but solely on the condition that the Stavka set aside adequate reserves at Ufa for a counterstrike.”

“That’s well enough, as far as it goes,” Ned remarked, leaning forward uneasily in his chair. “But once Lebedev has the weaponry, how can one be sure he’ll do what he promises?”

Rawlings suddenly threw down his pen and roared with laughter.

“How true, how true!” he exclaimed. “You’ve put your finger right upon it! Colonel Barrows was absolutely right when he suggested you for the job!”

“What job do you mean?”

“You are to be America’s military observer for the defense of Ufa,” Rawlings replied. “Your government insists on having one of its own men present to insure that the Stavka lives up to its commitments, just as my colleagues and I do here for the British Military Mission. And, I must say, a great deal rides on what we report, because the Allied governments are in a quandary at the moment about further backing for the Omsk regime.”

Ned shook his head in bewilderment at the latest turn of events.

“Excuse me, lieutenant colonel,” he said. “I’ve been away from Omsk for a month. When I left, the Admiral’s spring offensive had just begun and the Allies seemed delighted with it. Now that the offensive has faltered, are you saying that your government and mine are considering withdrawing military assistance from Omsk entirely?”

“Not entirely,” Rawlings responded. “But you must understand that, until a few weeks ago, our Foreign Office had been on the verge of extending diplomatic recognition to the Omsk government. Now, with the Siberian Army in headlong retreat, that is no longer in the cards. The question now is how much military aid to give Kolchak and for how long, considering that our support might yield a better return if sent to General Denikin in South Russia. Not that anyone is going soft on the Bolsheviks, mind you, but no one wants to throw good money after bad by betting on the wrong horse.”