fact they shared a great-grandfather wouldn’t make the slightest difference.
“Has the United States recognized this Dena Republik diplomatically?”
“This morning,” Douglas said crisply. “There’s been an incredible amount of military posturing on all borders, here and in Europe.”
“Who else has joined you in this madness?” Kronov felt faint.
“Austria-Hungary, the Republic of California, and the First People’s Nation so far. British Canada, New Spain, and our Confederate cousins seem to be siding with your Czar, but then they’re like that.”
“This means war.”
“That, Colonel, remains to be seen.”
“The Czar has no choice. If he doesn’t put an immediate stop to this Dena nonsense other regions will attempt to break away from the Russian empire. All would be chaos.”
Major Douglas gave him another wry smile. “Welcome to the twentieth century, colonel. Colonialism is dead.”
“Tell that to Britain, Spain, and France!” Kronov spat.
“Besides,” Douglas’ demeanor became icy, “where would the Czar find allies if a war started tomorrow? He’s already spent what little goodwill he inherited from his father.”
“What is it you plan to do with me?” Kronov asked in a small voice.
“Propaganda, partner. Propaganda of the likes you’ve never seen beforewe want you to tell the truth as you see it.”
“About what?”
“Imperial Russia. Russian Amerika. How St. Petersburg views her North American holdings and what she plans for their future.”
“I don’t have all those answers. I’m a soldier, not a diplomat.”
“That’s what we’re counting on.”
58
Major Heinrich Smolst worked his troops to their capacity. At his direction they dismantled the destroyed Chena Redoubt and sorted the material into orderly piles and rows. When they weren’t working they drilled.
Soon Bear Team functioned as one. Smolst thought if he clenched his fist, every other fist in Bear Team would do likewise. Their military smartness warmed his Prussian-like soul.
After breaking their own record on the obstacle course for the fifth time, he threw them all a party. Finding enough beer had been his biggest challenge. But he persevered.
“This is a wonderful party, Major,” First Lieutenant Sunnyboy exclaimed as he slapped his superior officer on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Smolst grabbed the officer’s wrist with a firm hand. “Lieutenants never slap the shoulder of anyone with higher rank, it works the other way around. Do you understand, Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened and he visibly wilted. “Oh, hell, I did it again, didn’t I?”
Smolst released the wrist and smiled. “You’re a good officer, Elijah. But you’re a poor drunk.”
“That’s good, isn’t it, Major?” Without waiting for an answer the lieutenant stumbled away.
“You’re a good officer, sir.”
Heinrich looked up into the lovely face of Karin Demientieff, one of their best medics. Just looking at her could heal a man, Heinrich thought.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. May I ask why you say that?”
“You know me too well to think I’m kissing your ass, sir. But I can see that you truly care about your people. Am I right in supposing you were once enlisted yourself?”
He narrowed his eyes and nearly lost his smile. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”
Her expression snapped from knowing to surprise. “No!” she blurted.
“You really were an enlisted man?”
“Started as a sub-private in the Troika Guard about ten years before you were born.”
She swallowed. “I didn’t mean to get personal, sir.”
“Not to worry, Lieutenant. I’m not a Russian, I’m an Austrian.”
“You served with Colonel Grigorievich, didn’t you?”
“For nearly eleven years in the Troika Guard.”
“I heard he was kicked out.” Karin licked her lower lip nervously, but Heinrich thought she looked delectable. “Is that true?”
His mood abruptly shifted. The party swirled around them, everyone tipsy or downright drunk. He felt the alcohol lift from his mind and he clapped his hands twice.
“Bear Team!” he shouted.
The entire room went silent and, over a thirty-second period, they all straightened to attention.
“You have all done an excellent job so far. I think you’ve conquered the civilian in each of you and have formed into a fighting team unequaled in Alaska.” He raised his glass. “I salute all of you.” He threw the vodka into his throat and swallowed.
The room burst into applause. He grinned and held up his hands. They went silent and waited.
“Lieutenant Demientieff,” he nodded toward her, “just asked me a question I know many of you are wondering yourself. Would you please restate the question for everyone else, Lieutenant?”
Color rose into her cheeks and she frowned at him. “I merely asked the major if it was true Colonel Grigorievich had been kicked out of the Troika Guard.”
Many heads nodded. The rumor had circulated among the troops since the Second Battle of Chena.
“It’s a good question, and the short answer is: yes.”
Startled gasps and murmuring voices suddenly filled the room.
“The long answer, if you’re interested, is this.”
They abruptly went silent.
“In 1979, at the Battle of Bou Saada in French Algeria, then Major Grigorievich defied the orders of his commanding officer by commencing an orderly retreat rather than attack an impregnable position held by forces outnumbering his command three to one. The colonel, Major Grigorievich’s commanding officer, held a pistol to the major’s head and ordered him to attack the enemy.”
Smolst shook his head and sipped his drink. “Imagine a large, thin loaf of rock, thirty meters high. Then add five more loaves of rock, each half again higher, one behind the other. Now add nearly a thousand heavily armed Algerians evenly dispersed through those loaves of rock.
“There is dust, and the sun is hot enough to boil your brains. I forgot to mention that the major and his men had been fighting up this miserable ridge for over seven days, were running out of water and ammunition, and had already taken thirty percent casualties. But as long as he led, they followed.”
Every person in the room stared at him, completely mesmerized. Most had stopped drinking as they waited for his words. He smiled and continued.
“The colonel, a man who had spent his thirty years service behind desks from St. Nicholas to St. Petersburg and had wrangled a combat command to fill out his vanity-oriented career, ordered Major Grigorievich to take those ridges. He shouted the orders from a hundred meters distance, couldn’t even face Grisha. The major crawled through heavy enemy fire to face the colonel and beg him to change his mind.
“The major was fortunate that his sergeant major followed. For when the major faced the colonel, the colonel pulled his side arm and pointed it at the major’s head. ‘Order your men to attack or I’ll shoot you for mutiny on the spot,’ he screamed.”
Smolst glanced around. From their faces he could tell this was news to all of them, even Captain Danilov, who had been there. He also knew he was creating the seed of a legend here, but the Dena Army needed it. Besides, he was greatly enjoying himself.
“And?” Lieutenant Demientieff said.
