Nadia laughed when Filip came into the boxcar they shared. “You look as though you’ve been playing in the mud. Are you finished?”
He’d been piling dirt around their boxcar for insulation. It was almost November, and they’d already had snow. The wooden box they lived in wasn’t on a track or wheels; it lay in the frozen dirt on the outskirts of the little village with a few huts, a small train depot, and a telegraph office. The grime covered him so completely that she could barely make out the newly awarded sergeant’s insignia on his sleeve, but she still took pleasure in the lines of Filip’s mouth and the sparkle in his brown eyes.
“Not quite. But I have something important to tell you.” His smile faded, and he suddenly looked very serious.
“Yes?” What would he say? An announcement like that suggested something significant, and seconds passed before he answered.
Finally, he broke into a grin. “I have a country, Nadia. We have a country!”
“We do? When?”
“Today. The news just came over the wire. Czechoslovakia. A new, independent country. No king, no emperor, no tsar, no Soviets. A republic, with Professor Masaryk as president.”
Nadia ignored the dirt and threw her arms around Filip. “That’s wonderful news. For you and for us.” He’d worked so hard for this, sacrificed so much for it. And Czechoslovakia would be her home too, her refuge with her husband.
Filip couldn’t stop smiling. “They must be going mad with jubilation in Prague. Three hundred years under the Hapsburgs. But no more. Today, we are free.”
“Do you wish you were there now? With your family?”
“I wish the whole legion were out of Russia. But there is no one I would rather celebrate this day with than you.” He kissed her thoroughly, and the elation, affection, and desire contained in his kiss left Nadia breathless. Then they went to join the others stationed at the outpost. The small garrison didn’t form a crowd, but she doubted even the masses of celebrants in Prague could beat them for jubilation and enthusiasm.
A few days later, Nadia saw a newspaper article about the new country and carefully clipped it. When she placed it in the leather attaché case Filip had bought her in Penza, she noticed another paper stored there. The affidavit from Filip allowing an annulment. She smiled to herself. That wasn’t going to happen anymore. She put the paper in the stove and used it for kindling the next time she lit a fire.
***
Dalek sat back in his seat. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Anyone could have seen it coming for at least a month, maybe longer. And yet, to have it become official . . .
He started laughing. It was loud, uncontrollable, and didn’t stop for a long time, not until Filip walked in and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Dalek, what on earth’s going on?”
“The war’s over.”
“It is?”
“An armistice went into effect this morning.”
Filip sat on Dalek’s desk. “Does that mean we can go home now?”
That was the question that sounded throughout the village as every man in the legion considered the future. Two weeks ago, they’d received a country, and now they had peace as well. But the cease-fire between Germany and the Allied Powers didn’t end the mess between the Czechoslovak Legion and the Bolsheviks—a war the legion hadn’t asked for.
They waited days, and then they waited weeks. Dalek’s position in the telegraph office wasn’t a hardship. In fact, having access to a telegraph and a few trusted contacts throughout the legion meant he could have one friend buy thirty rubles’ worth of cigarettes in Harbin, ship them west, and have another friend sell them in Chelyabinsk for the equivalent of eight hundred rubles. They were making a tidy profit on cigarettes, sugar, and salt. But he’d rather be home.
For the men at the front, it was an entirely different story—a dire one. They weren’t just homesick. They were fighting for survival.
Dalek followed the orders that passed up and down the telegraph line. Legionnaires were rushed to the front and made to fight until they were so worn out that they had to be pulled back. But there were no replacements to fill the gaps in each unit. Most of the time, they barely had time to catch their breath and spend a night or two in teplushkas before they were rushed to the front again to keep the Red Army from breaking through their lines.
The legion was growing smaller. The Red Army was growing larger. And then winter tightened its grip on Siberia.
“Have you heard the news?” Filip asked Dalek the last day of November.
“The news that the democratic Siberia we were helping is now a dictatorship led by a British puppet?”
Filip scowled. “Admiral Kolchak taking over? No. Not that. General Štefánik said we’re to hold the line until victory and that we won’t be getting any help from the Allies.”
The Allies were the ones who’d insisted on Siberian intervention. The legion had complied, despite protest, and now it was stuck. “We shouldn’t have trusted them.”
“We have Czechoslovakia now. We wouldn’t have it without the Allies speaking on our behalf.”