Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

Without waiting for a response, the colonel gathered his papers and marched out the door, with Ned close behind. However, to Ned’s complete surprise, no sooner had they descended the central staircase to the lobby than they came face to face with Admiral Kolchak, General Dieterichs, and a pair of British bodyguards. The Britons exchanged snappy salutes.

“Good morning, Admiral,” Colonel Ward greeted Kolchak, showing not a trace of his earlier irritation. “Actually, you are the one I came here to see, but as I have just finished meeting with the Chief of Staff, perhaps it would be best to come back another time.”

“Nonsense,” the Admiral barked. “I want to hear what you have to say at first hand, and I have some other matters to raise with you. So come along.”

They ran straight into Lebedev and the others on the stairway. Kolchak promptly led the entire group back up the stairs and into his office, where each resumed his former place around the table after making room for the Supreme Ruler and General Dieterichs.

“Gentlemen, today I have received fresh intelligence from our agents at the front,” the Admiral began. “It seems that the Red Army has shifted its focus from South Russia to the Urals and that their counteroffensive will be aimed at recapturing Ufa and taking the Urals passes. Lenin has told his Politburo that whichever army holds the passes this winter will inevitably be victor in the spring.”

Ned and Colonel Ward exchanged satisfied looks. Suddenly the tables appeared to be turning in their favor.

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Guins responded in a deferential tone. “As it happens, we have received similar information just now from Colonel Ward and Captain du Pont.”

“Good, then you will understand the need to reconsider our current plans for resuming the offensive,” Kolchak added. “Defensive tactics may be in order.”

“Most certainly so, Your Excellency,” Lebedev agreed, reversing nearly everything he had said to Colonel Ward. “If you wish, I will instruct the Stavka to prepare contingency plans for a partial withdrawal of the Western and Northern Armies.”

“Have you given any thought as to where the new defensive line might be?” Kolchak inquired.

The Chief of Staff cast a nervous glance toward Guins, who looked away irritably, and then turned to the monocled Staff Captain Titov, who minutes earlier had called any withdrawal preposterous.

“We will study it and make our recommendations by morning, Your Excellency,” the young Russian answered with an officious shuffling of papers.

Kolchak offered a sympathetic nod.

“It will be a painful step, to be sure,” the Supreme Ruler conceded. “But review the new intelligence and you will see why it is needed.”

“Certainly, Your Excellency,” Lebedev added. “And having held the Reds at bay over the summer, we should be in an excellent position to resume our advance after the harvest.”

Ned suppressed a laugh at how Lebedev had been led to parrot Colonel Ward’s remarks. And only seconds later, his monocle-wearing underling borrowed even further from Ward’s ideas.

“Perhaps we can turn a temporary withdrawal to our advantage,” he suggested. “If Trotsky means to throw everything at our center, perhaps we could exploit this in the south, where the Fourth Red Army remains weak. By sending reinforcements to the Ural Cossacks and threatening to link up with the AFSR, we might draw forces away from the attack on Khanzin’s southern flank. Or, failing that, we might send some Cossacks to harass the Fifth Army’s supply lines.”

It was a blatant attempt by Titov to curry favor with the Supreme Ruler, and Lebedev scowled at him from the moment he began speaking. Ned, on the other hand, was enjoying it immensely.

“Sadly, our reserve divisions have only begun their training and we have no others,” the Chief of Staff remarked, looking pointedly at each of his colleagues before stopping at Titov. “Where, may I ask, do you propose to find your reinforcements, staff captain?”

“Why not call up the civilian volunteers who clamor to fight under the so-called Maid of Baikal?” Titov replied. “I’m told that many fought against the Germans but were rejected by our recruiters on political grounds.”

“An interesting idea,” Guins added, to Ned’s surprise. “Their willingness to take up arms offers sufficient evidence of their loyalty, to my mind. Look, these men clog our railway stations from Irkutsk to Chelyabinsk, demanding to be sent to fight under the Maid. Why not call them on it?”

While the proposal drew a flurry of objections from Lebedev and several other Stavka men, Admiral Kolchak remained silent. At last, Dieterichs rapped his knuckles on the table and called for order.