Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“All right, sir, I think I understand the situation better now,” Ned added. “But what exactly am I expected to do here?”

“Go to the front and observe. Have Khanzin’s staff take you to see whatever you like before the balloon goes up. The rest is up to you.”

Rawlings offered a perfunctory smile and, breaking eye contact, picked up his pen to continue drafting his message.

“Understood,” Ned replied as he rose from his chair. “But one more question. Where might I go to send a message to AEF Headquarters at Vladivostok?”

“Panin will show you,” Rawlings told him. “Otherwise, you can find me here every day and most nights. So long as we hold Ufa, that is.”

And that was the entire issue, Ned thought. Whether or not the Stavka agreed to a reserve, and whether or not the Allies offered more arms, a battle would be fought soon along the Belaya, and if Ufa fell, Siberia would fall next.

* * *

Over the next few days, Ned made his way from one position to the next along the White defensive line facing the Belaya River. He became familiar with the terrain, the front-line Siberian commanders, and with the Red Army units they expected to face in battle. He also visited the Western Army Headquarters to interview key members of Khanzin’s staff. From Rawlings and the British, he learned that Frunze, the Red Southern Group Commander, had recently left Belebey with the intention to organize a large-scale crossing of the Belaya River.

From Colonel Panin, he obtained a recent photograph of Frunze, as well as photographs of Chapayev and several other high-ranking Red Army officers expected to take part in the operation. He then carried the photos to an engraving shop that the local police often employed to create reward posters for fugitive criminals, and ordered several hundred copies of handbills showing each Red commander whom he intended to target. From then on, at every outpost that Ned and Ivashov visited, they convened a gathering of sharpshooters, mortarmen and artillery spotters to receive the handbills and attend a briefing on the uniforms and insignia of Red Army commanders. The crews were instructed to watch for these notables on the battlefield and were offered a reward in gold rubles for every capture or confirmed kill.

At week’s end, Ned and Ivashov paid another visit to Panin at Western Army Headquarters and found the man staring at a wall map of Red Army positions west of the Belaya. Upon noticing their presence, the colonel invited his two visitors to sit.

“It won’t be long now,” he said with a brooding expression. “Perhaps not tonight, but tomorrow, to be sure.”

“What makes you think so?” Ivashov asked.

“The Red artillery has moved into position all along the confrontation lines,” Panin replied. “We can expect their first barrage to hit us at any time.”

“And are you satisfied with our defenses?”

“We have done what we can,” the staff officer said with a resigned look. “The latest American arms deliveries have helped a great deal. It seems that the Allies may have knocked some sense into certain heads at the Stavka, because our defensive planning is much improved over a week ago. Now we have proper reserves set aside for a counterstrike. Whether they will prove sufficient remains to be seen.”

“What about the strength of the Red attack?” Ned asked. “Will Chapayev and his Twenty-Fifth Rifles lead the charge?”

“Praise God, he will not!” Panin answered with a predatory smile. “Chapayev and his men left Belebey two days ago for Buguruslan, forcing Frunze to delay his attack until replacements have arrived from the Volga.”

“And Chapayev left in pursuit of…?”

“The Maid, of course,” Panin replied. “Our latest information is that she has captured Buzuluk and could reach Buguruslan by tomorrow. Against all expectations, the Maid’s raiding party has marched through the Red Army’s rear like Taras Bulba, putting everything to fire and sword, and fomenting rebellion among the peasants. It was something Frunze dared not ignore.”

Ned and Ivashov exchanged knowing looks. Could she really save the Western Army from defeat on the Belaya, as she had boasted at Uralsk? Or would Chapayev chase her down at Buzuluk and take his revenge upon her for liberating Uralsk?

“I think we shall not see Chapayev again until the battle is over,” Ivashov declared with a breath of relief. “Zhanna will know exactly how long she must keep him away from Ufa.”

At this, a gleam appeared in Panin’s eye.

“Are you certain of that?” he challenged.

“Zhanna has a sixth sense about such things. It has never failed her,” Ivashov said. “I would stake my life on it.”

“If I follow your advice, all our lives may hang in the balance,” Panin said. “Now go away and tell no one we had this talk.”

* * *