Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Blast it all, Guins!” the general rebuked his younger colleague. “This is exactly the situation I sought to avoid.”

Turning to the Maid, Dieterichs assumed a more conciliatory expression. As usual, he exuded authority.

“Now there, Zhanna,” he began. “As much as I hate to disappoint you, there will be no order to take Kazan. You shall have to cancel your plans and tell Baron Wrangel this: that the Siberian Army has agreed to a ceasefire of one month with Lenin and Trotsky, and the Allies have not objected. Wrangel and Denikin will be notified in due course, though the AFSR is not bound by the ceasefire.”

“But a ceasefire is madness!” Zhanna cried out.

“No, it’s necessary,” Dieterichs answered in a firm voice. “This war consumes men and supplies faster than we can replace them. Despite accelerated deliveries from the Allies, we still have barely enough to hold our place and rebuild. At this time, the continued existence of the White movement depends not on how much territory we gain by summer’s end, but rather on building an army capable of sustained operations. Further advances require fresh divisions.”

“And those divisions are not yet fully trained, Mademoiselle Zhanna,” General Janin pointed out with a cold smile. “To send them against the enemy would be equivalent to delivering their weapons directly into enemy hands.”

“You think only of your own men, who would gladly follow you through the gates of hell,” Dieterichs told the Maid, a note of exasperation entering his voice. “But your men are not the whole Siberian Army. Everywhere else, our officers and troops are exhausted. They can last but one fighting season and no more. We must do our best to insure that their remaining strength will be enough to outlast the enemy.”

“I agree,” Guins joined in eagerly. “What’s more, the country is terribly torn. Our people need a respite from war.”

But Zhanna wagged her bobbed head furiously and stamped her tiny foot on the polished marble floor.

“No, it is the Red Army that needs a respite, not we!” she protested. “Further delay merely gives the enemy time to rearm and call up more men. Let them put down their weapons and send Lenin’s brood back into German exile. Only then will we have a just and lasting peace! We have only to march forward and their last great strongholds will fall before us. I have God’s word on it!”

Dieterichs listened out of courtesy, but at last he shook his head and looked down at his powerful creased hands.

“The decision is made. We shall have a ceasefire,” he affirmed. “Peace from the Volga to the Urals, if we can keep it.”

All remained silent until Zhanna spoke again.

“Peace does not come from ceasefires,” she answered, her violet eyes burning with an unearthly fire. “It comes only when one side defeats the other. You know as well as I do that Lenin does not seek peace. He will haggle, protest, cajole, and deceive as long as he must to prolong the truce and buy time for the defense of Moscow.”

“Never mind that,” Guins interrupted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Admiral Kolchak has signed the paper.”

“Indeed he has!” Janin affirmed with a self-satisfied smile.

“And he never goes back on his word,” Guins intoned with a solemn air.

The Maid pressed her hands to her temples, as if it pained her to hear it, before turning to Dieterichs for a final appeal.

“But you cannot do this, general!” she implored. “It means throwing away all the advantages we have fought so hard and spilled so much blood to win!”

Here Dieterichs looked down again but said nothing in reply.

Suddenly, unable to contain himself any longer, Tolstov addressed the Chief of Staff.

“General, can you appreciate how this will look to our men at the front? Betrayal, stupidity, or both!”

“General, mind your tongue!” Guins shot back.

“No, no, let the general speak,” Dieterichs replied, waving Guins off. “No one ever said that Admiral Kolchak is infallible. He is neither a natural politician nor a gifted statesman. But he is our regent and commander and we must abide by his decisions. What do you and I know of statecraft and the expedients to which heads of state must resort? A leader must bargain and compromise with the lowest sorts of people at times—even the enemy!”

“But that is corruption and God hates such a thing!” the Maid objected loudly.

“I don’t know about God, but the sons of men take to it quite naturally,” Dieterichs replied with a shrug as he picked up the papers before him and slipped them into his portfolio.

Seeing the Chief of Staff prepare to leave, Guins and Ivashov followed suit while Janin set off for the door. Zhanna and Tolstov were left alone in the middle of the room.

“What does this mean?” the Maid asked Tolstov, as if unable to fathom what she had heard.

“They have betrayed us,” Tolstov whispered in her ear.

Then, seeing Dieterichs about to step out the door, Tolstov called to him.