Winter Storm Read online

  Fedorov shrugged. “No,” he said sullenly. “And God’s truth, I have no idea how I survived. Am I that man, yet with all the memories of what we experienced come to full bloom in my head? No one else remembers anything. Why only me?”

  “A good question,” said Karpov. “So you know everything then—all my dirty business in that first attempt to take the ship. You told Volsky that, didn’t you.”

  “I did. What would you have done in my place?”

  “Probably the same,” said Karpov. “You were looking for allies, and my little brother was already on to you. In fact, he thought you some kind of spy or double agent, and I suppose he was correct. Well, it’s too late. Volsky is gone, and the ship is finally mine again. He can commiserate with Admiral Golovko, or even hop a train or plane to Moscow to plead his case with Sergei Kirov, but it will do him no good. The ship is mine—ours—as I mustn’t leave my brother out of this. I’m back where I belong, and intend to stay. The only question now is what to do about you?”

  “Going to set Grilikov on me now?” said Fedorov. “Your other self tried that with Orlov, but I stood my ground. I won’t be bullied, Karpov. I’m not the little navigator you thought you could cow so easily.”

  “No,” said Karpov, “you’re the conniving little shit who couldn’t take no for an answer and decided to come after me in a goddamn submarine!” The anger flared, but Fedorov remained calm.

  “What else was I supposed to do?” he said quietly. “You wouldn’t listen to reason, Captain… Or is it Admiral now?”

  “Frankly, it is Admiral now, and well earned,” said Karpov. “Have you looked at a goddamned map since your last little sortie aboard Kirov? Notice anything wrong? We were just discussing the Japanese, and who can we thank now for the fact that they’re sitting on Vladivostok and most of our eastern provinces there? How’s that little crack look in your mirror of history? If you and Volsky had kept your nose out of things, I would have prevented all of that long ago.”

  “What? In 1908?” said Fedorov. “You still think you were Russia’s guardian angel? Do you have any idea how dangerous your actions were? Yes, I’ve looked at a goddamned map, and what I see there is as much your handiwork as my own. You attacked the Japanese! Why? Because you could, that’s why. You thought they would make easy prey back then, and why not? You were Captain of Kirov, the mightiest ship in the whole world. You were going to set everything straight, and restore Russia to her rightful place as a Pacific power. Well, you told me it simply wasn’t possible to set things right any longer. Didn’t you?”

  “I said you couldn’t set them back to the way they once were,” said Karpov quickly. “No. You can’t make things fall back into line for your precious history, Fedorov. But you can write it anew. You just have to have the guts for that, as you apparently do not.”

  “Captain… I won’t call you a megalomaniac if you won’t call me a coward.” He fixed Karpov with the same steady eyes, his resolve building now that the game was finally over.

  Karpov laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s not make this personal, but you have to understand that I had a long time to think about what you and Volsky did to me.”

  Fedorov shook his head. “If you entrusted this ship to Rodenko, having urgent business elsewhere, what would you do if he pulled up anchor and sailed off to rewrite history the way he saw things? I don’t think you’d simply give him your blessing and let that go. What did you expect the Admiral to do? You disobeyed a direct order! Yes, you feel we betrayed you, and I can see that easily enough. But have you ever stopped to think how we felt? He gave you this ship, entrusted you with its power, and the lives of every man aboard. What happened on the bridge off Oki Island? I wasn’t there, but I learned what happened with Rodenko and Zolkin, and then finally the whole bridge crew standing up and saying no to you. But that isn’t a word you ever could hear without pain.”

  Karpov took a deep breath. “I know what I did, and what I was going to do. You see, I remember everything too, Fedorov. I remember the Wasp, and the Mississippi, and the fat lip I gave Captain Tanner’s carrier battlegroup after that. I did a few things after that volcano went off they you may not even know about.”

  “Yes,” said Fedorov, “you got the other two ships that shifted back with you blown to hell.”

  “They died fighting for Russia, as I hope I will if the enemy ever betters me. But that won’t happen now.”

  “Oh? What are you going to do? I asked you earlier, as the naive little historian you were chatting with. Now I ask you man to man. What are you planning here?”

  “The same thing I told you earlier. Japan has something that belongs to me, and my presence here on this ship should tell you just how I feel about things like that.”

  “You’re going to attack the Japanese?”

  “If I must.”

  “And then what? You think they’ll simply bow and cede back all our occupied territories? Captain, Admiral, or is it Mister General Secretary now, the one thing they all have in common is your tendency to underestimate your enemy. I know something of what happened in 1945. We uncovered things when we were on your trail. You underestimated the American Navy then, and the men on Admiral Golovko and Orlan paid the highest possible price for that. You underestimated the skill and determination of Admiral Tojo, and allowed your ship to come within range of the Japanese guns. And yes, you’ve underestimated me, and for a good long while.”

  “Don’t be so sanctimonious, Fedorov. Yes, I know you want to stand there and point a finger at me, but remember that map. Guess who sits on a third of old Mother Russia now? Ivan Volkov! How in God’s name did he find himself in 1908? How did you ever get back there yourself?”

  “Time was pulling us all to that moment,” said Fedorov. “You know about Ilanskiy. I discovered it by pure chance, and I suppose Volkov discovered it by chance as well, only 80 years later! That was when I realized the stairway moved in both directions, both forward and backwards in time.”

  “But it was you who insisted on the mission to look for Orlov,” said Karpov. “I was right there when you pitched it to Volsky. So before you get to shoveling shame on me for the state this world is in, take a look in that cracked mirror at yourself. I had to do that a short while ago. You have no idea what it was to face the paradox we were both approaching, but I survived. When I learned the ship had returned, and was right there again in the Norwegian Sea, imagine my surprise. All I could think about was getting here.”

  “To set things right again,” said Fedorov, “to get your little pound of flesh? Then you found the whole crew was clueless as to your duplicity and subterfuge…. Except for me.”

  “Two can play at that game, as you’ve clearly demonstrated. Come on, Fedorov, what are we quibbling about here? Was I angry when you and Volsky interfered earlier? Of course! But that isn’t going to happen this time. Volsky isn’t going to find another submarine. Which reminds me… Whatever did happen to Gromyko?”

  “We don’t know,” said Fedorov, quietly carrying a little guilt for all of that as well. “He was in the thick of that last engagement in May, and I think he fired a special warhead. There’s a lot I must tell you.”

  “There… I like the sound of that much better,” said Karpov. “There’s a lot I must tell you as well. Don’t you see, Fedorov? Here we stand, two men who know what they have done, with the world broken at our feet. I know my part in it, as you know yours. God knows, that fool Orlov has a hand in all of this along with us. As for Volsky? That man intended only good, I see that now. He took your council, and did what he could, but things are what they are now, and he’s no longer a factor. Yet you and I still matter here. You and I matter a very great deal.”

  “I hear a sales pitch coming,” said Fedorov.

  “No, you hear reality talking now, and you goddamn well know it. Do you think your presence here, with all those memories intact, is mere coincidence? I see things otherwise, and my own presence here as destiny. You have a destin
y too, Fedorov. We can either be yin and yang, arising mutually, opposing one another, yet also defining one another, or we can be one in this affair, and then really set our minds on making things right.”

  “I thought you believed that wasn’t possible,” said Fedorov.

  “Anything is possible. Look… Things are changing, right now, this very moment. Did you hear what Nikolin said about Operation Typhoon? The goddamned Germans are hammering at the gates to the Kremlin! What if they get through this time? You met Sergei Kirov, as did I. You know he’s a man worth fighting for. And by God, I gave him men and resources to build five Shock Armies, and my full support.”

  “Yes, for this ship…” Fedorov could not abate the quiet accusation in his tone.

  “True enough,” said Karpov. “That much is obvious. But it doesn’t change anything about what I said. You want a real villain when you aren’t busy worrying about me? Try Ivan Volkov. That man has already mounted two raids on Ilanskiy, and thank god I stopped him both times. He knows, Fedorov. He went down those stairs looking for you, and now he finally knows how he ended up where he did. Now then, imagine Volkov in control of Ilanskiy. Where does he go? The man is hand and glove with Adolf Hitler! What does he do to rewrite history to his liking? You want that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, neither do I! I want the Japanese gone from everything they took from us, and Volkov gone with them. I want all the Caucasus back, and Kazakhstan and all the other turf Volkov is sitting on in his little Orenburg Federation—not for myself, but for our nation! The only difference between me and you is that I’ll fight for what I want, and by God, I’ll win if you’ll help me instead of trying to undercut everything I do. It has to be one way or the other, Fedorov. You were Captain of this ship once, and you know what we can do with it. You had no qualms about attacking the Kriegsmarine. Yes, I sunk the Wasp in a moment of misguided anger. You tried to stop me back then, but I wouldn’t listen to you, but I’ll listen now. With all you know, we can do what has to be done here, and if it ever would be possible to set things right in this world we’ve broken together, then we must do that together—as one, as a team. Fight me now, and we’ll only break more China.”

  Fedorov thought back to the time they served and fought together, with Karpov his sworn lieutenant, Starpom under his command, and the Japanese Navy between the ship and any hope they ever had to get home again.

  “I was Captain here once,” he said.

  “And I served under you,” said Karpov, “willingly.”

  “Yet what did we accomplish?” Fedorov gave him a long look.

  “We fought,” said Karpov. “Yes, we killed men and ships, and saved our own. And then, when we finally made it back home, I saved Key West. Believe me, that wasn’t easy for me. You said a moment ago that you were not the same man. That I can clearly see. Well, I’m not the same either. This war has a way of squeezing a man dry. It’s the most desperate time we ever faced on this earth, and I’ll admit I’ve left pieces of my soul, the man I was, on many a battlefield over these last few years. This is what I am now… older, more wizened, leaner, more dangerous, more calculating, smarter, able to see and do things my younger self never could, and knowing what restraint is as well. You’re different too, Fedorov. I killed the Wasp, but you killed Graf Zeppelin—or are you going to say that was all Volsky’s fault?”

  Fedorov knew what Karpov was saying now, he could feel it as well. “You’re right,” he said at last. “Remember that fight we had with Yamato? You told me it would get easier, but it never has. That still hasn’t stopped me from doing what I had to do. This war put the same question to each and every one of us.”

  “Correct,” said Karpov. “You chose sides, just as I did. You chose sides and then you realized what you had done, because guess what—there’s a war on here, and once you take up the sword and banner, you better damn well know how to fight.”

  Part IV

  The Rising Storm

  “It was the noise of ancient trees falling while all was still, Before the storm, in the long interval between the gathering clouds and that light breeze, which Germans call the

  Wind's Bride.”

  ― Charles Godfrey Leland

  Chapter 10

  Yes, there was a war on, and there were men who knew how to fight taking up those banners and swords. Oberst Gruner was one of them, as he spied the location on the map where he wanted to go that morning, a high hill labeled 860 to his northwest. As commander of the recon battalion of Model’s 3rd Panzer Division, he had been ordered to look for a way around the heavy resistance encountered at Plavsk, astride the main road and rail line to Tula. The ground was not difficult, and the elevation change was so gradual that he could take his armored car right up the gentle slope, making for the highest point he could see.

  When he got there, he stepped out of the vehicle, his boots settling into the mud, and walked up to the top of the hill. From this ground he should get a very good view of what the division was really up against, and he slowly removed his leather gloves, cleaning the light mist from the lens of his field glasses. His adjutant, Leutnant Meyers, followed in his wake, buttoning his overcoat against the morning chill, and squinting into the grey sky.

  It was the time they called the Wind’s Bride, the calm before the storm. The rain was building on the horizon, a pallid smear of clouds gathering heavily in the low overcast. He could smell it, and knew it would bring nothing but just a little more misery when it came time to move the rest of his division up. From the brow of the hill, he could dimly see the lines of 10th Motorized to his north, which had been jogging right the last several days to make contact with Guderian’s main force in 3rd and 4th Panzer Divisions. The land flowed off towards Plavsk, which was now due east of his position, a patchwork of muddy brown fields, thin green woodland, and clusters of small farms, all long since abandoned as the tide of war had finally reached them, like the oncoming edge of a great fire.

  Lifting his field glasses to his eyes, he peered through the thickening drizzle, seeing the solid line of infantry positions in and around the town to the east, the thin smoke from their morning fires coiling up to be lost in the grey. North of the town he saw more troops along the line of a thin brown river, and he could hear the dull mutter of machine gun fire, knowing Loeper’s 10th Motorized must have run into something there.

  So his worst misgiving had come to roost on his shoulder that morning. The mad dash was over. There was no longer an open flank his column could swing around to unhinge the enemy defense, and for a cavalry man, a long time officer in the reconnaissance battalion, finding himself looking at what could now become a front locked battle, was most disheartening. The Russians were here in force, and they were going to hold the line of that river, and fight.

  He looked at Meyers, tugging at his gloves to adjust the fit again. “Loeper has a battle on his hands.”

  “That’s what he gets for treading on our turf,” said Meyers. “What’s gotten into him? He was supposed to take Belev, and set up that depot for supplies.”

  “He’s done that, then he moved east to look for us. Didn’t like what he saw building up out west. Word is the Russian 5th Army has moved into defensive positions there, and they may even be pushing our way.”

  “All the more reason for 10th Motorized to be watching our left flank,” said Meyers. “Now look at him, he’s well north of our column!”

  “We got up infantry support at Belev, so Loeper is here. Don’t complain, Lieutenant. We may be glad for that by nightfall. The Russians are here too, and in good numbers. They must have a full Rifle Corps along that river north of Plavsk. Loeper has his work cut out for him—and so do we.”

  Gruner trudged back to his vehicle to radio KG Munzel, where the panzers were waiting for his report, about six kilometers to the south.

  “Bad news this morning,” he said coolly. “There is no way around the town to the north. 10th Motorized is already there, and I spotted what looks
to be at least two more rifle divisions all along the river north of the town. I think he’s engaged.”

  “How is the ground?” came Munzel’s reply.

  “A lot of mud here at the base of the hill, but still fair along the secondary road. If you want to move, do it now, because a curtain of rain is moving in. There’s a small copse of woodland between my position and the river. I’m going to move forward to scout that area, and see if I can reach hill 804. That will put me in contact with Loeper’s division.”

  “Very well, we’re coming. Leave a squad there to signal us as we approach.”

  Munzel was quick to move, sending Rhun’s III battalion over a dry stream bed that might soon be a morass of mud if he did not take Gruner’s good advice. By mid day he had reached the woodland Gruner had scouted, and paused to wait for KG Wellmann’s infantry. Westhoven would follow, and then Model with the rest of the division support units. He already knew just what the General was going to order, an attack after dusk, right through those woods and across that river where Gruner had spotted the fresh Russian infantry. It was going to be a very long night.

  Off to the right, KG Seiden of 4th Panzer Division was advancing up the main road from Gorbachevo where the fighting had been so bitter the previous day. The Soviet Guardsmen there had fallen back on the much larger town of Plavsk, and it was now clear that this was the main enemy line of resistance. Model met with Langermann at mid day to explain his plan.