Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“So, tell me again, captain,” Holt resumed. “Assuming the war does last past Christmas, do you really want to spend the autumn and winter up to your knees in muck in some trench along the Marne?”

“As compared with the steaming, disease-ridden jungles of Mindanao?” Ned replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Every front has its own charm, I suppose,” Holt answered with a knowing smile. “What I’m getting at is this: what do you really want? Escape the Philippines? Advance your career? Serve your country? Kill Germans?”

“A mixture, I suppose,” Ned added uncertainly. “The Western Front seems to offer them all at once.”

“And if there were another way to get what you want?” Holt asked, returning to the leather armchair opposite Ned.

“I would have to consider it, of course.”

“What if I were to offer you such a choice today, on the condition that you say yea or nay before leaving this room?”

Ned gulped. The colonel awaited his response with a poker face.

“I believe I could do that, sir.” Ned said, edging forward in his seat. “Tell me more.”

“Have you been following the progress of the Czech Legion in Siberia?” Holt asked, to Ned’s surprise.

“Not very closely,” Ned confessed. “I recall that a group of Czech POWs had a skirmish with Bolshevik troops in May at a railway station in the Urals, and now they and their White Russian allies control most of Siberia. Top-notch work for a few thousand lightly armed POWs, I’d say.”

“Forty thousand, to be precise,” Holt corrected. “Hardened, determined men. Perhaps enough to tip the balance on the Western Front. The Allies want the Czechs to proceed the rest of the way across Siberia to Vladivostok, where British ships will return them to Europe.”

“And how the devil do they propose to accomplish that?” Ned asked. “The last I heard, the Bolsheviks controlled the entire eastern portion of Trans-Siberian Railway, from Lake Baikal to the Pacific.”

“As indeed they do. That’s why the State Department, with the War Department’s concurrence, has endorsed a plan to send American troops to take control of the Trans-Siberian and escort the Czechs out.”

The colonel watched closely for Ned’s reaction.

“And has this plan been put before the President and Congress?” Ned inquired.

The colonel beamed, as if anticipating the question.

“Until a few weeks ago, President Wilson appeared to be dragging his feet,” Holt replied. “But a few days ago, the Secretary of War sat down with the man the President has picked to lead the American Expeditionary Force in Siberia. That man, General William Graves, is now scheduled to embark for Vladivostok in one week, via Manila Bay. Yes, Manila Bay. And your old unit, the 27^th Infantry, is one of the regiments selected to join the expedition.”

Ned’s breath caught in his throat and he felt as if his heart had stopped beating.

“So you want me to…”

“…join the expedition to Siberia,” Holt replied. “Only not with your old unit. Your counter-insurgency experience is certainly an asset, but we have other men quite capable of hunting down marauding Bolsheviks, if need be. No, we have something rather different in mind for you.”

Suddenly, Ned found his unease at the prospect of returning to the Philippines being replaced by pride at being singled out for special duty.

“And may I ask what that duty might be?” Ned ventured.

“You may, once you have accepted it,” Holt replied. Ned waited for a smile, but the man did not appear to be joking.

“Could you give me a hint?”

“The expedition hasn’t been made known outside a very small circle,” Holt went on, deflecting the question. “Some aspects will be made public in the coming days; others may not. If you decline the offer, you will report back to the Philippines to join your old unit for immediate deployment to Siberia. There you will guard the railroad with the rest of the 27th.”

“And if I accept?”

“You will travel to Siberia, but under conditions that I expect you will find much more to your liking.”

Ned inspected the colonel’s face closely. Holt’s lips were curled in a half-smile and his blue eyes held an amused twinkle.

“All right, I accept,” Ned declared, letting out a deep breath. “Now, how about telling me what sort of mess I’ve gotten myself into?”

Holt gave a hearty laugh.

“If it turns into a mess, then at least you’ll be in good company. Because you’ll be reporting to your old intelligence chief, David Barrows. In fact, he requested you by name.”

“But Colonel Barrows isn’t with the 27^th any more…”

“No, he’s been promoted,” Holt pointed out. “He’ll be the new Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence with the American Expeditionary Force in Siberia. You and he will be working together again, as you did in Mindanao.”

“Colonel Barrows is one in a million,” Ned grinned. “I couldn’t possibly do better. Will I be joining his staff, then?”