John Schettler - Devil's Garden

With all these contrasts apparent, the city was also both a gateway to the heartland of Asia, accessible by rail and sea, and a bulwark of defense. Its famous fortress would reach final completion in 1912, standing in the shadow of concentric circles of brooding hills. It invited even as it held the world at bay and, like any gateway city, the door might be open one day or closed the next.

It was to this bawdy and feral port that Kirov now sailed, and one thing was at least immediately familiar to the crew as the ship approached-the mid-year gloom of fog and low clouds. Like many coastal cities, the heat of the summer simply added humidity to the atmosphere, and rain and fog was almost a daily occurrence in June and July. By the same token, the Arctic chill of winter would often be broken by many clear days of welcome sunshine in January and February, and the autumn was particularly pleasant, the so called “velvet season” of mild temperatures, falling leaves and soft fluffy clouds painted by glorious sunsets.

If Karpov hoped to conquer the world, as it now seemed his inner ambition once again, he would first have to face the challenge of conquering Vladivostok. Yet his first great trump card was the massive and looming might of the ship itself. With accurate navigational charts, he decided to arrive well after sunset, and with the ship’s lights darkened. They could creep slowly up through the Eastern Bosphorus Strait, noting that there was no longer a great bridge there spanning the gulf.

Rodenko suggested they at least send a telegraph signal ahead to notify the authorities that a ship of the Russian fleet was returning to base. “There will be guns at the fortress, Captain, and numerous shore batteries. We don’t want some startled gunnery officer to put a shell through the citadel window.”

“Good point, Rodenko. Very well, I will have Nikolin cable the arrival of the new Viceroy of the Far East-Vladimir Karpov, to be expected before dawn on the main quay of the Golden Horn Harbor. We will have to turn out in full dress uniforms-flags, honor guard with swords and baton. Spectacle will be a big part of our initial impression. The ship alone should put them in awe, but I want to make an equally intimidating appearance.”

“But sir…Won’t they send to St. Petersburg for confirmation on this? As soon as they find out that we have not been sent by the Tsar their suspicion will become poison. They will never trust another word we say.”

“I’ve considered that, so I will make no claim to that effect. I will say we have come on our own accord, and that will be the truth. What they don’t know works in our favor. Our words will mean nothing in the end, unless there are actions to back them up. They will see the ship, and our actions will speak volumes when we put it to good use.”

“But why make contact at all then, sir? Won’t that merely complicate matters?”

“To tell them what will soon happen,” said Karpov. “I will let them know what I intend to do, and then deliver it. Only then will my demands receive any real ear from the Imperial government here. Now, we must see to the landing ceremony.”

“Very well, sir…Or should I now begin calling you Viceroy, your grace?” Rodenko smiled, yet he was inwardly worried that Karpov’s newfound energy and ambition would end up being the same heady drink that had seen him let loose two nuclear weapons on forces he perceived as mortal enemies, and the heartlessness of a man who could do that frightened him.

The Captain moved from the edge of despair to the ebullient energy of the conqueror in a heartbeat, thought Rodenko. There is something inherently unstable about him, and without Fedorov or Volsky here, as Starpom I am the only countervailing force that might serve to moderate him. Yet thus far all I have done stand by and watch stupidly while the Captain raged on. Fighting to defend the ship in time of war was one thing. I knew my duty was clear there. But this plan to start a war that was never supposed to be fought is quite another thing. Yet what should I do?

He decided that there would be at least one other mind on the ship that might be a confederate soul in this regard. “Well, Captain,” he said. “I am glad you have recovered. It’s been a very long shift. May I stand relieved, sir?”

“Yes, of course, Rodenko. Get your rest. I will summon you in six hours, just before we are due to make port. You will not want to miss the event, I assure you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Itwas decided that security would be a major concern. Many of the ship’s Marines had gone ashore for Fedorov’s mission, but there were still two squads aboard as replacements, and Karpov gave orders that volunteers were to be recruited from the crew and a new detachment formed as naval infantry.

“I want at least two hundred men under arms,” he told Sergeant Savkin. Choose the best men and start regular training exercises at once. We will not dock at the quays. Instead we will anchor well out in the bay, and go ashore by boat. The water barrier will provide additional security for the ship, and you are to mount a 24 hour guard on every quarter. No one from the mainland is to come aboard under any circumstances unless I directly order it.”

“Very good, sir,” said Savkin, a tall, dark haired man, sturdily built and dressed out in full cammo uniform. “And what about security ashore, Captain?”

“I will be taking a full squad, with you in command, Savkin. That should be sufficient for the time being. After all, these are our countrymen.”

“Let us hope they give us a good welcome, sir.”

“Why wouldn’t they? But I tell you one thing-this ship is going to bug out quite a few eyes come dawn tomorrow. The city will look out as see the most marvelous vessel on earth sitting in the Golden Horn Bay, and it will be flying the flag of the Russian Navy!”

Karpov held the image of his arrival in mind with great anticipation now. It would be just as he had imagined it before when he first thought to present himself at the negotiation table with Roosevelt and Churchill in 1941, at the Atlantic Charter meeting in Argentia Bay. He thought he might get his second chance at Sagami Bay for the surrender ceremony of Japan. In both cases the obstinate and implacable nature of his enemies had frustrated him. This time he would realize his inner dream.

He ordered his Marines to conform to the image he had long carried in his mind. They were to assemble on the foredeck in their dress olive greens, long double breasted trench coats with gold buttons and collar tabs, braided gold belts and the brilliant red sash strap from shoulder to waist, where a six inch tasseled gold horsetail tied it off. The boats was decorated with red and would proudly fly the Russian Naval Jack as they approached. The Captain made sure Nikolin had communicated his desire to meet with the local authorities at once, and requested a reception committee on the harbor quay. He called out the ship’s band and had them rehearse all evening below decks before sleep. They would play the old national anthem as he and his Marines boarded their boat and came ashore.

It was a very strange night as Kirov slipped quietly into the bay, surrounded in a fog so thick that no one ashore could see the ship. The crescent moon had set at 13:27 hours and was down, yet there was an unaccountable glow in the sky to the northwest, and the light played eerily over the low hanging clouds, infusing the heavy fog with a strange radiance, a pale glow that carried on all through the night. The ship sat silently in the bay, all running lights darkened and rigged for black. Karpov did not want to disturb the velvet night, but with dawn his theater would begin.