Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

Tolstov suppressed a chuckle, for Zhanna’s words might as well have been his own.

“I believe the Maid has summed it up,” the Cossack declared. “Would you not agree, Mikhail Konstantinovich?”

But to Tolstov’s evident surprise, Dieterichs’ expression took on an even darker cast.

“Audacity in war is a faithful servant but a dangerous master,” he warned in a menacing voice. “One needs to know when to stop advancing and when to watch for the counterattack.”

“One must also recognize when one has achieved a victory, and know how to exploit it,” Zhanna replied through gritted teeth. “Lebedev would have remained stalled at Uralsk had I not compelled our forces to attack there. He would have stalled again at Buzuluk and at Yershov, and yet again along the Volga. Some battles are more perilous than others, to be sure, but the key to victory is to grab the enemy by the throat and not let go until he yields!”

Dieterichs listened quietly with his lips pressed into a fine line. But despite his fondness for the girl, he was disinclined to let her get the better of him.

“Perhaps you find us weak-willed for not agreeing to move at once on Moscow,” the Chief of Staff continued in a stern voice. “Think what you like, but I would prefer to call it prudence. With God’s help, we managed to survive one headlong plunge toward Moscow this spring. I, for one, do not care to try another.”

The general’s expression softened as he rested his scarred hands upon his knees and gazed upon the Maid like a well-meaning uncle. Zhanna seemed to recognize the change, for she remained silent and let him go on.

“Now, Zhanna, I don’t begrudge you the victories you have won through daring and tenacity. Nor do I doubt that you are God’s favorite, for I remember how the wind shifted in Uralsk and how your raid on Buzuluk saved us at Ufa. But, as a lifelong soldier, I must tell you that God is no one’s cavalry horse. He has seen us through some tight spots, to be sure, but I fear that if we take His help for granted much longer, we shall deserve to fail.”

“But, general!” Zhanna interrupted, suddenly aroused.

“Wait, I’m not done yet,” Dieterichs shot back. But this time he addressed Kolchak rather than Zhanna. “Let the public praise the Maid and her miracles, but I have a pretty good idea of how much God has helped us through the Maid, and how much he left to good generalship. And I am concerned that our stock of miracles may be running low. As I see it, Your Excellency, final victory will likely come to the side more skilled in the science of war. Having learned many a hard lesson fighting the Germans, I can generally calculate in advance how many lives any move of mine may cost, and whether it is worth the price. But the Maid’s method is to push ever forward, confident that God is in her pocket. Up to now, she has enjoyed certain fleeting tactical advantages in each of her battles. But to attack one large city after another in the heart of Sovdepia will be quite different. I fear we can no longer afford to take the sort of chances that have paid off so handsomely until how.”

Dieterichs paused as if waiting for the Admiral’s response. Kolchak stole a glance at Zhanna, and then at Tolstov, before speaking. When he did, his voice and demeanor seemed guarded, even deferential, as if he were bowing to the weight of authority rather than advancing his own conviction.

“On balance, I must concede that our Chief of Staff has the better argument,” the regent declared without looking Zhanna in the eye. “This is indeed a time for prudence and planning, and for close collaboration with our allies. Resources are limited, yet time is of the essence. In short, we must watch our step.”

“But what about Kazan?” Zhanna demanded. “My men are waiting for the command to move. And Baron Wrangel must know at once, if we are to have him with us.”

“Stand down, Zhanna!” Kolchak replied, now speaking with the crisp voice of a seasoned naval officer. “Tell everyone that you are awaiting further orders from me before making any move. Now that is all!”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” the Maid replied in a quiet voice, bowing her head and turning away from Kolchak, perhaps the better to hide the tears filling her eyes. Tolstov rose and stood before her, his face a study in disappointment and his eyes inviting her to leave with him. For this was not the time to object, and both he and Zhanna knew it.

* * *

The next morning, Ned woke up with a queasy feeling that lingered for hours, wondering what course the war would take, now that the drive on Moscow had been delayed. For while the decision to resupply the Siberian Army and await fresh reserves was prudent by accepted military standards, neither Lenin not Trotsky were party to it.