The barracks of the blue curassiers were more of a home to Grand Duke Mikhail than Moscow ever could be. On returning to his regiment after his long stay with the itinerant court, the young man found a sense of purpose and usefulness he had missed during these long months. Of course, his rank precluded him from any real danger, but he was at least taking part in the plans and preparations being made. The trip through the snowbound hills alone had been a thrilling ride – the railways from St Petersburg were unsafe, occasionally patrolled by armed Socialists, so he had detrained well south of the city and made his way on horseback and by sleigh, accompanied by a detail of the life guards. These poor fellows were now sitting idle in the guardrooms of Gatchina Palace where their charge came only to sleep. Mikhail preferred to spend his days with the officers of the garrison, drilling troops, talking tactics and strategy, readying for the advance into the city. It felt somewhat like a siege, but he had something useful to do.
Right now, seated in the creaky but comfortable chairs in the map room of the commanding general's residence, he was talking strategy with Colonel Denikin. Mikhail fopund himself impressed by the infantry officer, though he often thought that the man's arrow-straight rectitude and devotion to the letter of the law would have made him happier in the Prussian army than in that of the Czar.
“The cuirassiers will have to stand back. It's not about your person, it is a matter of tactics. we do not expect to be dispersing rioters or protesters, where cavalry sabres are useful. The rebels in St Petersburg are going to fight us from the moment we set foot in the city. Heavy cavalry would only make a target. Sir.”
Mikhail nodded. Personally, he felt sorry for his regiment, but it was obviously right.
“Don't worry, Sir. There'll be enough for them to do once we're going up against the Germans.”
The grand Duke smiled grimly. One of the less appealing aspects of the secrecy that surrounded Russia's government was that everyone thought they had the secrets figured out. Of course, his brother had increasingly frozen him out of the deliberations of the State Council, so it was entirely plausible Denikin might really know something more than he. He decided to probe a bit.
“What makes you so sure, colonel? We aren't even finished with the Japanese yet, and that's not been going that well lately.”
You could talk that way to Denikin. He was uptight and sometimes prickly, but he would not snitch on a fellow officer. Certainly not one with the political connections to make it risky, but even on general principle. If he couldn't tell you something, he'd tell you so.
“Sir, it's obvious.”, he pointed out. “We cannot let the kind of insult they inflicted go unpunished. Preparations are under way, and the situation is favourable.”
That was news for Mikhail.
“Look at the dispositions. The emperor has called on General Sukhomlinov to command operations in the “Western Theatre”. They sent a circular to pretty much everyone. No new troops are being sent east. I'm confident we will have peace with Japan soon, and then we will go to Berlin.”
Of course, Mikhail had been thinking along those lines himself. The appointment was out of the ordinary, and many commanders of military districts had been upset. Of course the official line was that he would be reorganising command as part of the coming military reform. Mikhail was certain it had more to do with restoring order in unreliable units and quelling mutinies. He was sure that there had been more of these than the press admitted, though even he was not privy to exactly how many. Sukhomlinov did not strike him as an ideal choice to fight a war, much more so to coordinate and organise an institutional effort.
“I think that may be more to do with the rebellion. You know it must be worse than the papers allow.” A quick gesture taking in their evirons pointed to the obvious: if over ten thousand men at Gatchina – reinforced by the remaining loyal forces from St Petersburg and Zarskoye Selo – could not just take back the city, then thins were a lot worse than the national papers said. Who knew what it was like in Kiev, in Minsk, Odessa, Vilna or Novgorod? Not good, they all supposed.
“The rabble is not a real enemy.” Denikin replied. “I suppose you know more about what is happening at the court anyway, but it won't take us more than the spring to clean up this mess. We are mainly waiting for the troops to be in position, they we'll restore order. And then, what better way to restore Russia's position in the world and unite the country than to beat the enemy who inflicted this crisis on us in the first place?”
“I don't know a lot more than you do, actually, colonel.” Mikhail pointed out. Denikin seemed unconvinced. “The emperor believes in keeping important information in as few hands as possible. everyone is told only what they need to know, and there are no exceptions for friends and family.”
The grand duke did not exactly radiate conviction. Denikin seemed puzzled for a moment.
“It is – regrettable that His Majesty should forgo the advice of an able military leader.”, he said in the end. Mikhail glanced at his face. The man seemed entirely serious. That was worth remembering.
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