“He is a strong man.” She straightened to her feet. “He will live, I think.” She stared at Jerry. “Now tell me about the Dená Republik.”
Jerry told them everything he could remember hearing about the Dená revolt that had touched off a continentwide war. He felt exhausted and wrung out.
“Oh, the French and the Spanish also sent their fleets out—”
“Who cares, the Dená Nation is mostly landlocked,” Bodecia said. “Do you remember any of the names of those killed at Chena, the cadre?”
“Only one name sticks in my mind. Slayer-of-Men, how could I forget that one?” Jerry’s near-chuckle died before it reached his lips.
Bodecia’s face froze and Magda emitted a small gasp. Pelagian stepped between them and Jerry.
“You just named one of my wife’s cousins. He was one of my best friends.”
“I’m sorry to bring you sad news. I wish I could remember more.”
Bodecia spoke to Pelagian in a different language, not Russian or French. He answered and both women turned and walked away toward the dense willow thickets bordering the rocky river shore. In moments they had vanished from sight.
“What is your plan, Lieutenant Yamato?”
“Plan, what plan?”
“How were you going to get out of here and back to California?”
“I was sort of making it up as I went along, didn’t really have a plan.”
“You are twenty miles from the nearest odinochka, which is a fortified trading post. They will give you all the compassion you can pay for, maybe less. You are thirty miles from the nearest Russian redoubt, but I think perhaps you might not care for that, either.”
“Is that thirty miles following the river or going cross country?” Jerry nodded at the huge colorful ridge.
“Both.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“We?”
“The sergeant and me.”
“I believe you have only one option, to come with us.”
“Aren’t we your prisoners?”
“I am not at war with either of you. The ropes were used to meet you both without use of firearms.”
“Makes sense. Where are you going, back to your, uh, fort?”
“No, we are going to the village of Delta, near St. Anthony Redoubt.”
“Why?”
“My wife has family there. She is angry with me for still being out here where no one can find us.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“I am visiting the length and breadth of my land, where I am honored as a leader, while returning from my trapping camp.”
“Are you a leader in Delta?”
Pelagian gave him a grim look. “I am not ignored.”
“I think you’re right. May the sergeant and I accompany you?”
“Of course you may. I think you both would die if we left you here.”
“I won’t argue that one, either. Are there telephones in Delta?”
“Yes, they all go through the Russian Amerika Company switchboard.”
“Oh. Well something will turn up, I’m sure.” Jerry surveyed Sergeant Cermanivich, who had yet to regain consciousness.
“He will not wake for some time. He has a lot of healing to do. We will need to carry him.”
“I’ll take the first turn.”
Pelagian laughed. “Do you know how long it took you to go a half mile?” He pointed back toward the destroyed tank. “Almost an hour.”
“Well, I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was.”
“You misunderstand, we have a better way.”
Magda reappeared from the windblown willows, leading four large dogs wearing harnesses. Under her arm were four long poles and some of the parachute shroud lines. She spoke and all four dogs stopped.
In minutes she had Rudi’s litter slung between the dogs, an animal at each corner. The sticks worked as spacers to keep the dogs in the same configuration. Jerry’s parachute harness was hooked to the front of the litter and a makeshift sling tied to the back.
“One person in front, one in back,” Pelagian said. “That way we all share the load and can go long distances.”
“I’ll bet I’m in back.”
“You can’t be in front, you don’t know the way.”
Jerry couldn’t argue with that. He looked around, wondered how far they had to travel and what they would meet along the way. He glanced at Magda and she smiled at him.
Something told him this adventure was just beginning. He smiled back.
91
“The Russians refuse to heave to, Captain,” the signalman second class said.
“Just what I thought they’d do. Mr. Gorin, put a shot across their bow.”
“Of which ship, Captain Llerena? There’s ten of them out there.”
“The one in front.”
Commander Gorin spoke into the microphone on his headset and one of the five-inch 38s immediately fired. The shell splash in front of the leading Russian destroyer was easily seen by all on the bridge of the Eureka.
Three Russian destroyers immediately opened up on the Eureka’s task force. One shell whistled past the Eureka’ s bridge and landed in the water.
“All ships,” Captain Llerena barked, “fire at will!”
The Eureka rocked to starboard as all twelve sixteen-inch guns on the four mounts fired simultaneously. The heavy cruisers Sacramento and Los Angeles and destroyers Hemme, Hepner, Bear, and Mitchell all fired their main batteries within seconds of the task force commander’s order.
Battleship Gorki and destroyer Severin of the Imperial fleet both disappeared in a stunning blast of explosives and flying metal as the salvos hit them with more shells than the rest of the Russian fleet combined, setting off their magazines. Gorki had flown the flag of Admiral Buldakov, commander of the Russian Pacific Fleet and chief tactician.
The surviving Russian ships, nearly in a straight line, steamed at flank speed toward the California fleet, which had formed a great C shape and was able to bring nearly every gun to bear on the hapless, enraged Russians.
The entire Battle of the North Pacific took less than an hour before the Russian destroyer Tolstoi, crippled and taking on water, lowered the remains of her flag.
“My God,” Commander Gorin said. “It was like ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ in reverse!”
“And just as stupid,” Captain Llerena said in a tone of disgust. “I almost wanted to give them another chance after the fifth ship went down. Did we lose anyone?”
“The Hemme took three hits but is still moving under her own power, and the Mitchell is dead in the water. The Los Angeles is preparing a tow for her. Between the two ships we lost about ninety men, including the skipper of the Hemme.”
“Gary Cole was a good sailor and a fine skipper,” Captain Llerena said.
“Those ninety men gave their lives for a great victory. The Russians can’t even protect their own coast now.”
“Captain, do you think we just won the war?”
“Perhaps, Mr. Gorin, perhaps.”
92
Grisha carefully formed each letter as he wrote out his report. The War Council had asked he record everything about the Chena campaign while it was still fresh in his mind. He had been at it for the past two days.