Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Never mind how. Will you do it?” she insisted.

For several seconds he regarded her with lips pressed tightly together and a grim cast to his gray eyes.

“As you wish,” he replied at last.

“Do you need further instructions, or can I count on you to use your best judgment?”

“No instructions are necessary,” Ivashov replied. “I will ride out at once with a few picked men and report back as soon as I am able.”

Though Ned had known of Ivashov’s prior service with the People’s Army, a fact that had put the staff captain at odds with Lebedev and other hard-liners at Omsk, Ivashov had never hinted at having fought for the Reds, even under duress. Even if it were true, Ned asked himself, how could Zhanna have known it? And what else about Ivashov remained concealed from him?

* * *

Ivashov returned long after midnight.

“They are little more than an hour’s ride away. We still have time to surprise them before dawn, if we move quickly,” he announced in a tired but resolute voice to the assembled commanders and staff.

“But how will we avoid being detected?” Zhanna asked. “Our wagons and tachankas are far from silent.”

“Tonight Chapayev ordered his cadets on watch duty, but a certain Red colonel had them relieved,” Ivashov answered. “If we keep a proper distance, they will not hear us until we go on the attack.”

“And you have confidence that the Red colonel’s orders will be obeyed?” Zhanna asked with unblinking eyes.

“As well as if I gave the order myself,” he answered, meeting Zhanna’s steady gaze.

“Then give the signal to advance,” she said. “Bring up the artillery first, at a safe distance. Put the mortar crews next, then the trucks and the tachankas, positioned in enfilade. And send a squadron of cavalry across the river to block any attempts by the enemy to swim to the opposite bank. Our infantry must form an airtight perimeter to prevent any stragglers from slipping the noose. Am I understood?”

As Zhanna walked off to the staff tent with Paladin, Ned caught up with them and gestured for Paladin to go on ahead. Once the youth was out of earshot, Ned fell in step beside her and spoke.

“Zhanna, what is your plan if we fail to achieve surprise?” he asked. “You must realize that Chapayev’s force outnumbers ours by a ratio of three to two. The situation is far from ideal.”

“When has our situation ever been ideal?” she answered in a clipped voice. “If we follow God’s plan, we shall win.”

“So you don’t fear risking everything at one throw, despite the weariness of our men and horses and the risk of betrayal?”

Zhanna stopped walking and turned to face Ned with a questioning look.

“Tell me, captain, who is more weary?” she challenged, putting her hands on her hips and regarding him through narrowed eyes. “Our men, who have fed and rested in their homes at Uralsk, or Chapayev’s, after weeks of forced marches, deep in enemy territory, and short of everything? The Red soldiers will sleep like the dead tonight, and they won’t stir until they hear our cannons’ roar.”

“I see,” Ned replied, drawing a long breath. “Your successes seem to have put you beyond fear, Zhanna Stepanovna. And that worries me.”

But to Ned’s surprise, the hard mask of determination on the girl’s face suddenly melted into an expression that bore the unexpected traces of humility.

“So you think I don’t fear battle?” she asked, biting her lower lip nervously. “Usually before a fight, I am so frightened that I shake like a leaf!”

Ned met her gaze with a probing look and for a brief moment, he could detect vulnerability in her violet eyes.

“Then, when the danger passes,” she went on, “everything seems so terribly dull. It’s as if there’s nothing in between. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’ve gone mad…”

“All experienced soldiers are mad, to a degree,” Ned replied, reaching out to take her trembling hand. “As long as you can still feel the fear, you’re okay. It’s when the feeling stops that you’re in trouble.”

“No danger of that,” she said, holding up her other quivering hand and stifling a laugh. “See?”

By the time they reached the staff tent, both her hands were steady and a determined expression had returned to her face. The time for fighting had come.

* * *

The Maid’s troops, having perfected their ambush techniques during the raids on Buzuluk and Buguruslan, took up positions outside Yershov before the first glow of dawn appeared in the sky. At Zhanna’s command, the artillery crews let loose on the town, followed by the mortarmen. The moment the barrage stopped, truck-mounted machine guns and tachankas left their concealed positions in hollows, among trees, and buried within haystacks, to move in for the kill.