Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Then you won’t listen to me here and now?” she protested, her eyes welling with tears.

“Of course I will, Yulia. Go ahead. Tell me everything,” he contradicted himself, taking her hand and sitting beside her on the bed. Tea would have to wait.

* * *

At the end of April, though the ice and snow had melted and the mud had dried, the Siberian Army’s spring offensive remained stalled for lack of reinforcements and resupply. Meanwhile, intelligence reports confirmed that the First and Fifth Red Armies were gathering force for a planned counteroffensive. At the urging of Ned and Lieutenant Colonel Neilson, Colonel Ward arranged for a private meeting with Admiral Kolchak and General Dieterichs, ostensibly to update plans for improved wireless communications and to pass along the latest Allied intelligence. The real reason for the meeting, however, was to present Allied concerns about the offensive and to lay down Allied conditions for continued military aid.

Since Ned was the senior American military officer available for the meeting and the one who knew the most about the wireless project and recent intelligence reporting, he joined Colonel Ward for the short ride from the British Consulate to Liberty House. While en route, Ward expressed doubt that the Supreme Ruler was even in Omsk, as he had heard that Kolchak was delayed at the front. Nonetheless, he preferred not to postpone the meeting for fear that certain others might reach the Supreme Ruler first.

“We must gain the Admiral’s ear before those dilettantes and fantasists at the Stavka do, lest they fill his head with the sort of rubbish that they generate in that military anthill of theirs,” Ward began. “The tragedy is that General Lebedev has made it his primary mission to block any opening for a more competent staff officer to replace him. The man is notorious for his methods of advancing himself. The Russians call it the ‘path over corpses’ for good reason.”

“By now, one would think that Kolchak would recognize the Stavka’s incompetence and how they continue to underestimate the Red Army,” Ned concurred. “But what if he doesn’t and turns down your proposals?”

“Then I shall have to refer the matter to London,” Colonel Ward replied with a determined look.

When they arrived at Liberty House, the duty officer led them straight to the Supreme Ruler’s office.

“Secretary Guins has asked that you join him inside,” the officer told them as he opened the door for them.

Once inside, instead of finding Guins with Admiral Kolchak, Ned saw the youthful official seated at a conference table with Lebedev and a handful of senior Stavka officers dressed in impeccably tailored British uniforms: brown wool tunics adorned with green-and-white Siberian epaulets, broad riding breeches, polished British boots with stout soles and gleaming brass eyelets, and gaiters laced to the knee. Ned cast a glance toward Colonel Ward and saw anger smoldering in his eyes. They had walked into an ambush.

The Russians rose to shake hands with their visitors and Ned noticed that Ward was nearly a head taller than Lebedev, who was the tallest of the Russians. Without apology, the Chief of Staff announced that Admiral Kolchak had not yet returned from the front. Reciting a list of successes achieved to date by the Siberian Army’s spring offensive, he predicted that the Volga would soon be crossed and Siberia’s Northern Army might reach Moscow within six weeks.

Ward listened politely until Lebedev finished, thanked him, and then asked coolly if he might now offer His Majesty’s Government’s views on the matter. On receiving Lebedev’s nod, the colonel looked around the table before speaking.

“We face a wholly changed situation, gentlemen,” Ward declared, laying his massive hands flat on the table. “The Bolshevik leadership has turned its attention from Denikin’s AFSR to the Siberian Army, naming Admiral Kolchak as its main enemy. This means that the full weight of the Red Army will soon come down upon us, and likely where we are weakest.”

The colonel rose from the table, stepped up to a map of the Urals front hanging on the wall, and pointed to the Western Army’s left and right flanks, where gaps had opened. “This is where we can expect the First and Fifth Red Armies to aim their counterthrusts. Our early superiority in troops was achieved by throwing every available man at the enemy. Now, that advantage is gone.”

Though Lebedev’s face remained impassive, several of his deputies cast nervous glances at one another, licked their dry lips, and lay down pen or pencil to listen.