“Colonel Romanov, the last of General Myslosovich’s supply train has left the area.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Severin. Let us enjoy the silence for a while before we bring Captain Kobelev’s motorized scout unit back to the garrison.”
Romanov stepped to the window and opened the blinds. He loved this place more than he had loved any other thing in his life. Most of his men thought of their posting to St. Anthony Redoubt as punishment, but not him.
The Delta River joined the Tanana River less than a kilometer from his office. The redoubt enjoyed a view that few appreciated. Stepan Romanov felt drawn to this country.
Despite his aristocratic name, Roaanov’s grandmother was a Yakut from Siberia and he held deep sympathies for the Dená. He tried to keep his attitudes to himself, but others had noticed.
A visiting colonel once asked for an Indian woman for the night.
Stepan had frowned. “I’m not a whoremonger, colonel, you’ll have to solicit for yourself.”
“You do not know women who—”
“No. You’ll have to ask one of the privates.”
Thankfully, the colonel let the matter drop. Romanov would not allow his men to molest the local women or mistreat any of the civilian population. He preached brotherhood to his troops and had a corporal lashed within inches of his life for beating an old Athabascan man.
Now this stupid war has made a hash of everything, he thought. Not that he blamed the Dená. In fact he felt they were right: the Czar and his ancestors had caused limitless suffering in Alaska and the time for change had long since passed.
Colonel Romanov glanced up guiltily at his sergeant to see if the man had interpreted his silence correctly. The sergeant was staring out of the other window at the same view.
Romanov grinned, then eased back into his military role.
“Very well, Sergeant Severin, notify Captain Kobelev to bring his people in, we have room for them now.”