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Subject: {ASSM} An Interview With Gorshin (Part 5) By Katzmarek (Hist,War,FM)
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Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2005 03:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "An Interview With Gorshin 5.txt" begin>



   AN INTERVIEW WITH GORSHIN (Part 5)

   By KATZMAREK(C)

   "As February ground on," the old Admiral said, "the Auxiliary Cruisers
Peterburg and Smolensk arrived at the anchorage off Nossi Be'.  They had
been recalled to the Baltic after a very successful campaign in the seas
around Japan.  Single-handed they'd driven Japanese coastal traffic into
its harbours."

   "They were what came to be described as Disguised Merchant Raiders. 
They had these false superstructures that concealed their guns.  Often
flying the British Merchant flag, when they spied a Japanese merchantman
they would sidle up close, see, run up the Russian Ensign, drop down these
false walls and things then blast them with their guns.  The Japanese
really had no answer for them.  They weren't going to stop every British
Merchant ship to see if they were a Russian warship.  No sir, the Japs were
big buddies with the English, they weren't going to upset them."

   "So why were they recalled?" asked the Ensign.

   "Well, politics again.  The British weren't happy about the Raiders
using the British flag and after the North Sea fiasco...  They said it was
a breach of International law.  Bastards!  Look, the Japs started the war
by attacking our ships without a formal declaration and the English talk
about law!  I tell you, their attitude was most hypocritical."

   "We taught them," the Admiral continued, "we taught everybody how to
conduct a war on commerce and the Germans learnt that lesson well.  Those
German colliers...  all their officers were Naval reservists under the
German system.  They went over those two Raiders and learnt how we did it.
Then when the Great War came along they copied the idea."

   "And," he laughed, "we got the mad Pole and some Maxim Machine Guns for
the Grozny."

   "Sir?"

   ----------------------------------------------

   Both the Smolensk and the Peterburg looked like innocent merchant ships
from a distance.  Behind those white deckhouses, however, was concealed a
relatively powerful armament of 3.4 and 6 inch Oblukhov guns.  They had
been fitted out in Vladivostok to supplement the Cruisers Rossiya, Rurik,
Boyarin and Diana in their attacks on the Japanese sealanes.  While the
Vladivostok Cruiser Division attacked the troopships and their escorts, the
Merchant Raiders drove Japanese Commercial trade off the seas.

   These modern pirates had a good conceit of themselves.  At Nossi Be'
they were feted and admired, shouted drinks, and strutted around wearing
crossed bandoliers and sidearms.  All that swagger and posturing caused
quite a stir, particularly among the ladies.

   Peter Szpetznar was known as the 'Mad Pole' by his comrades on the
Auxiliary Cruiser Smolensk.  He'd earned that nickname during the attack on
the coastal steamship Hakodate Maru, when he was heard to laugh maniacally
as he hosed that hapless freighter with machine gun fire.

   A firefight had developed between the Japanese crew armed with rifles
and the Russians.  The Smolensk had intended to capture the vessel and its
cargo of fine Welsh coal.  However the crew had defended their ship with
rifle fire when the Smolensk ran up the St Andrews Ensign.  A vicious,
close-quarters fight had ended inconclusively so the Smolensk had moved
away and sunk the ship with cannon fire.



   One night, Peter Szpetznar staggered into the bar the Destroyer crews
ran in the alley behind the Customs building.  He was propped between two
ladies of the night called Suzanne.

   "Hey, you Fucks!" he'd shouted, "which of you arseholes is from the
Smirnoffs?"

   "Who wants to know?" Yvgeny had asked him.

   "Peter the mad fucking Pole and I've come to join you."

   "Why would we want you?" Gorshin had asked the man.

   "Because I come with two machine guns and two whores."

   "Then sit down, friend," Yvgeny had told the man, grinning, "what's this
about machine guns?"

   "Maxims.  They come with two gunners and four loaders and we're looking
for a fight.  The whores, well, we all know what they're looking for."

   ----------------------------------------

   Many of the crews of the two Merchant raiders weren't happy about
returning home.  Burning with outrage after the fall of Port Arthur, men
like Peter Szpetznar believed they had a score to settle with the Japanese.

   Their Captains allowed those who were not essential to the running of
the ships to join the 2nd Pacific Squadron if they wished.

   Machine Guns were still a rarity in 1905 among the fighting forces in
the Far East.  The Smolensk and Peterburg handed theirs to the fleet as
they had no further use for them.  As experienced Machine Gunners were also
rare, the guns usually came with their gunners.  The Grozny acquired two,
complete with the necessary crew to man them.

   The guns themselves were of German manufacture from the armaments Works
at Spandau.  The Russian Navy had been purchasing German Naval equipment
for years.  In fact, the Grozny itself was of German design.  One of what
was known at the time as a 'Schicau Boat,' after the well-known shipyard
Vulkan-Schicau.

   Peter Szpetznar settled into life at the 'Destroyer's Bar' like he was
born to it.  He was tall, fair and featured a magnificent waxed moustache
which he curled at the ends.  Even on shore he carried a brace of Smith and
Wesson revolvers in open holsters like a Western cowboy.

   Yvgeny Gorshin, Count Khlodovsky and Peter Szpetznar began to acquire a
reputation around Nossi Be'.  Often seen together and fueled with the
Count's Roubles, there wasn't a lark too outrageous, or an Admiral too
important to offend for the trio.

   Yvgeny himself had practically moved into suite 26, Hotel Orientale with
his mistress Yvonne.  Despite complaints from the other guests, mostly
senior Russian Officers, Peter Szpetznar was a frequent visitor.  The Count
himself alternated between the 'talented' Denise, who had a room on the top
floor, and No.  26.  Denise, said the Count, was a 'professional Mistress'
who used her talents to provide a tidy living for herself.

   Yvonne was beginning to assert herself with Yvgeny and had clearly
fallen in love with him.  She didn't like Peter, who was 'boorish and rude'
and the Count who was an 'amoral gigolo.' She complained about Yvgeny's
drinking and carousing, chided him for being late and urged him to move
into another room where she could have him all to herself.

   On his part, Yvgeny found himself growing attached to her despite his
promise to Katka Talsii.  She was soft and warm, and had grown experienced
in the things that made him excited.  Sex between them had become more
passionate and intimate.  It seems he couldn't get enough of her, nor she
of he.

   ---------------------------------------------------

   This happy domestic state of affairs came to an abrupt end towards the
end of March.  Admiral Rhozdventsky finally came out of hibernation.  The
first thing the Squadron knew was a terse order sent around all the ships;
&&& here, and below--colon not semicolon.

   'To all ships," it read, 'all animals and unauthorised people aboard His
Majesty's ships will vacate them immediately.  Any animal or vagabond
remaining after 4pm today will be thrown overboard."

   Shortly, there followed more orders;

   'All crews ashore will return to their ships forthwith, or be treated as
deserters and shot.'

   'Navarin, Oslyabya, Orel, Borodino, Oleg, Svetlana and Zhemchug, you are
a disgrace to the Navy.  All ships are to be cleaned and painted by this
time tomorrow.'

   'Gunnery practice will resume on Friday.  Kamchatka will tow the target.
If the Kamchatka refuses to follow orders I will fire on it personally with
live rounds.'

   And lastly;

   'The fleet will depart Nossi Be' on Sunday next for Cam Ranh Bay, French
Indo-China via Sunda Strait.  Boilers will be cleaned, Engines greased and
in full working order.  Failure to do this will earn the Engineers a court
martial.'

   There was no doubt that it was the Admiral this time, not Kursel, who
was issuing orders.  His arrival back caused great consternation.  The
fleet knew he had been ordered to wait for Nebogatov and the ancient
'self-sinkers' so what was he about?

   Rhozdventsky actually had received further orders from St Petersburg. 
He was now to make his way to Vladivostok and from there harry the Japanese
supply lines and, if possible gain control of the Sea of Japan.  The orders
demonstrated just far out of touch the Russian Admiralty was with things in
the Far East.

   They suggested that Nebogatov's Squadron be left to defend Vladivostok
while Rhozdventsky's was to become, in effect, Commerce Raiders.

   Togo clearly wasn't going to allow the Russians to gain Vladivostok.  He
had two options; either turn them back, thereby forcing the Russian ships
into Neutral ports, or bring them to battle.  Obviously the second option
appealed to Togo rather more.

   Admiral Rhozdventsky knew he had to fight Togo and preferred to do it
without Nebogatov.  If Nebogatov was only going to defend Vladivostok, then
it didn't matter whether Rhozdventsky waited for him or not.  Feverishly he
prepared the fleet for sailing before more specific orders arrived.

   To reach Vladivostok you need to go either East or West of Japan.  East
takes you through either the Tsugaru Straits between Honshu and Hokkaido or
around Hokkaido through the La Perouse Channel.  Neither of these options
was possible for the Russians because they couldn't carry enough coal.  The
most direct route was West through the Straits of Tsushima between Korea
and Japan.  This route would take them right past the Japanese Naval bases
at Sasebo and Nagasaki.

   Rhozdventsky hoped to pass these bases at night and be well into the
Tsushima straits by dawn.  In this way he hoped the Russian fleet would
have a good start on Togo, assuming he was at one of those two bases.

   What the Russians didn't know was that Togo wasn't based in Japan at all
but near Ulsan, Korea, a place then known as 'Queen Caroline Inlet.'

   -------------------------------------------

   "I believe Admiral Rhozdventsky worked out his plan at Nossi Be',"
Admiral Gorshin told the Ensign, "based on a wrong assumption, yes, but a
popular one.  We were getting absolutely no intelligence at all about the
Japanese battlefleet."

   "He knew his ships were in a poor state to fight Togo," Gorshin
continued, "The Japanese had all the time in the World to prepare, rest
their crews and repair battle damage.  The Admiralty listed Rhozdventsky's
and Nebogatov's ships as including 11 battleships.  11, I tell you! 
Against Togo's 6 as we believed at the time.  But only 4 of ours could be
described as first rate, whereas the Japanese battlefleet were all modern
ships with well-trained and motivated crews.  It looked like we had
overwhelming strength on paper but the reality was very different."

   "So, sir, why did Rhozdventsky proceed towards Vladivostok if he
believed the advantage lay with the enemy?" the Ensign asked.

   "Ah, well, you see he was driven by forces he had no control over, the
expectation of the Russian Tsar and people.  Pride, patriotism and duty,
and maybe with a lot of luck we may have made it."

   ---------------------------------------------

   Yvgeny Gorshin hurried down to the dock with his kit and Yvonne. 
Already squads of armed Marines were strutting through the town to enforce
the Admiral's new orders.

   The Grozny's crew were scrambling around the Destroyer with buckets. 
The new machine guns were having their brass water jackets shined to
perfection.  Elsewhere the anchorage was alive with boats of every
description rushing men and supplies out to the fleet.

   "What times eh?  What a lark," shouted Pikalevoi from the deck, "you
blow soot *before* you start painting you idiots!" he bellowed at some
seamen.

   Yvgeny stood on the quay with Yvonne.  She held his hand tightly,
choking back the tears.

   "I won't let you go," she told him, "you'll just get yourself blown up.
Promise me you'll duck?"

   "I promise."

   "Why don't you transfer to Feodor's ship?" she asked, "it's much bigger
and has lots of steel..."

   "And a bigger target," he answered, "the Japs won't see the Grozny, it's
too small."

   "You're not funny...  don't try to make jokes."

   "Hey, you coming on board or what?" roared the Commander.

   "Just a minute!"

   "Take her to a room, Gorshin.  Here, I'll give you a pass.  Requisition
more canned beef while you're at it.  Don't take all day, Rhozdventsky's
goons are rounding everyone up.  Trigger-happy fucks!"

   ------------------------------------

   "'Requisitioning canned beef' was a standard joke we had on the Grozny.
We'd never seen canned beef since we'd sailed from Libau.  If anyone wanted
to go ashore to see a girl, they were 'requisitioning canned beef.' All the
vessels had things like that," Gorshin explained to the Archivist.

   "I threw my kit on board, collected my pass from the Commander, then ran
back to the Orientale with Yvonne," he continued.  "Feodor had been
recalled to the Alexander but they still held the room for him.  Although
the fleet was going out for gunnery practice, they returned at night. 
Aristocrats like Khlodovsky were permitted to keep their shore lodgings. 
Just an example of the gulf between Nobles and us common people, I guess."

   The Ensign sneered in disgust.

   "And today," the Admiral laughed, "are things any different for senior
Party Officials?  Just the same today, my friend, except *our* Aristocrats
have a poor taste in suits."

   ------------------------------------------

   Yvgeny and Yvonne leapt up the grand staircase to suite 26.  They made
it just inside the door before kissing frantically.

   "I may never see you again," she told him breathlessly, "we need to
talk..."

   "Later," he replied, pulling up her dress.  His hands plunged into her
underwear probing and feeling for openings, for access.

   "Wait, oh, don't tear them," she gasped, "please, let me do it." She
pushed her silk panties down her legs while Yvgeny scrambled down his
trousers.  His cock jutted out urgently, Yvonne grabbed it as he pressed
her against the wall.  He lifted her small frame as she locked her naked
legs around him.  Yvonne worked him inside her, pushed forward while
squeezing him with her legs.  She grunted as Yvgeny pushed himself as far
up her as he could reach.

   He pounded her against the wall until the ornaments on a nearby shelf
threatened to fall to the floor.  His legs were giving out so he waddled
with her to the sofa, still locked together.

   "Crazy Russian," she moaned, "my hard sailor...  oh!" Yvgeny dropped her
on her back on the sofa and stroked into her slowly and powerfully.  He
knew she liked it that way, liked to feel his weight on top of her.

   Knees bent, her legs were in the air, one shoe still on her foot.  Her
neck and the exposed area of her chest glistened with perspiration. 
Escaped locks of her hair formed a halo around her pretty face.  She jerked
and thrashed her body towards Yvgeny's thrusts.

   He grabbed her arse and thrust rapidly into her in the way she loved. 
He knew it drove her wild as he mashed his pubic bone against her clitoris.
She howled in response.

   "Uh, uh, yes, oh, so hard..." she babbled.

   She came explosively, she always did when taken roughly and urgently. 
Yvgeny finished himself a few moments later after flipping her over and
pushing into her from behind.  He loved to watch her in dishevelment, her
damp hair clinging to her face, her clothes pulled up around her or
scattered on the floor.

   She lay on her back, legs spread and pussy glistening with moisture. 
Her chest was heaving as she sucked in air.  A slight smile split across
her face, her expression one of surprise and exhaustion in a way that had
become familiar to him.

   Soon the fleet would be leaving and Yvgeny once again began to think of
desertion as he did those months ago in Libau.  Again he put those thoughts
behind him as he reminded himself of honour and duty to his crewmates, to
the service.

   "What are you looking at?" she asked him in a small and tired voice.

   "You," he breathed, "and thinking how hard this is going to be."

   "You won't be coming back, will you?" she asked, partly in hope of a
positive answer.

   "I don't think so," he admitted.

   "I will write," she told him, "promise me you'll write back?  I need to
know that you're safe.  If I don't hear from you I will assume you've
drowned somewhere out there," she added, looking out towards the Indian
Ocean.

   "I promise," he replied, dressing, "first chance I get."

   "Good," she said in a dreamy voice.

   ----------------------------------------------

   "So?" asked the Ensign.

   "So?" Admiral Gorshin stared back.

   "Did you see her again?  You promised to write, did you?"

   "You're very inquisitive, young man," the Admiral answered.  "We kept in
touch for a few years.  I wrote to her from Vladivostok as I promised to
do. She returned to France the next year and we continued to correspond for
some time.  She eventually married a French Naval Officer, a Commodore I
think.  We lost touch during the Great War."

   "For the rest of the week," the Admiral added, "we remained on our
ships. We trained, practiced with the Battleship Divisions, or patrolled
around the coast.  That Saturday the whole fleet coaled from the German
Colliers.  We piled the stuff on board, God knows where we stowed it.  We
washed the ships down with fire hoses then finally left that Sunday after
Mass."

   ----------------------------------------------

   The fleet wallowed out into the Indian Ocean in a rough ENE course for
the Sunda Strait.  Leaving the coast far behind, they disappeared from the
World's attention for two weeks.

   They left behind disappointed Merchants and Prostitutes who watched
their steady income sail out into uncertainty from the timber quays of
Nossi Be'.

   By the middle of March they'd reached the Sunda between the islands of
Java and Sumatra in the Dutch East Indies.  A Dutch Colonial gunboat,
Prinzess Wilhemina, intercepted them just outside territorial waters and
guided them through the channel.  The Gunboat, a mere 200 ton schooner with
a steam auxiliary engine, looked comical compared to the towering ships of
the Russian 1st Division.

   They stopped outside Singapore, then an important British Naval base, to
receive mail and despatches from the Russian Consulate.  Orders from St
Petersburg emphatically demanded that Rhozdventsky wait for Nebogatov.  The
Admiral's specific orders had arrived.  There was now no ignoring them.

   Nebogatov was hurrying to catch them up.  The fleet must wait for him at
Cam Ranh Bay and proceed in company to Vladivostok.  The Admiral promptly
shut himself in his cabin and refused to see anyone except for the
ever-faithful Kursel.  The fleet stumped off up the Indo-China coast to Cam
Ranh and anchored.

   The bay in 1905 was a collection of fishing villages and very little
else.  The flourishing rice trade of the Mekong Delta used Saigon, where
the French administered their province of Annam.  The Vietnamese people
were polite but bemused by the sudden invasion of Russian seamen.  The
Russians bought fresh fruit and vegetables, fish and other produce but
otherwise contact was limited.

   The time was spent in gunnery practice and drill.  Yvgeny saw no sign of
any obvious improvement in Russian marksmanship.  The local fishermen
learnt quickly to vacate the area when the Russians were shooting their
guns.

   --------------------------------------

   "Why was our shooting so poor?" Gorshin asked, "Well, there were many
reasons.  Some were technical and others, practice and training.  There was
no such thing as a central director in those days.  Each gun had its own
gun-layer who had to view the target through a telescopic sight.  They then
had to calculate the 'rate of change,' the distance the target would move
before the shell arrived.  This was a very exacting process and as I said
in the beginning, many of the gunners were army artillerymen.  All they had
to do in the past was fire at fortress walls and those walls didn't move
very much," he chuckled.

   "Our main guns on the various ships had different calibres.  Each gun
had their own range tables, different trajectories and so on.  A shell
splash from a 260mm looks the same at a distance as a 305mm.  So whose shot
was whose?  Who was firing short, who was firing over?  There was no way of
telling.  Sure you may fire each gun individually and correct the aim that
way, but that's not possible in broadside firing.  In battle you need every
gun firing at the target as fast as they can."

   "We envisaged a battle at extreme range, say 18,000 metres or more.  At
that distance nothing was going to be accurate in those days.  The Japanese
opened fire at 23,000 metres at Tsushima but you must remember they didn't
hit anything until the range came down.  The gun then was a fair weather
weapon and atmosphere, smoke, dusk and dawn can make it impossible to fire
accurately."

   "Lastly, we didn't have enough shells for sustained practice.  All these
difficulties are impossible to overcome if you can't practice with your
weapon."

   "So, sir, what did the fleet practice?"

   "Drill!  Target left, range 10,000 metres, the gun would lay the target
and the gun-layer would yell 'boom'.  It was very funny."

   -------------------------------------------

   It was possible, just possible, that Japanese flotillas could sweep down
at the anchored ships.  They were now within striking distance from Japan.
Yvgeny and the Destroyers began patrolling well out into the South China
Sea and the Gulf of Tonkin.

   The sea area was large, however, and the numbers of Destroyers
inadequate.  It was a period of anxiety for the fleet, not the least the
Destroyers.  An entire Battlefleet could pass by them at night and it would
be impossible to see.  No-one wanted to be held responsible for missing an
ambushing squadron.

   This was a task more suited to the large cruisers, but for some
unfathomable reason Enkvist was kept cooling his heels at Cam Ranh Bay. 
Perhaps they burnt up too much precious coal?  More likely Rhozdventsky
just didn't trust him.

   Yvgeny wasn't sorry to be kept busy.  There was apparently litte else to
do and it kept them out of the way of the Admirals.

   'Idle hands find the Devil's work,' so the saying goes and discipline in
the fleet became harsher and harsher.

   ---------------------------------------------

   "But the Russian is a stoic," Admiral Gorshin said, "very few people can
endure such harshness but it is idleness that is the hardest to bear. 
Cooped up in their ships in the stifling tropics, it amazes me how the
ordinary Russian sailor just gets on with living."

   "Perhaps it was the Vodka?" the Ensign suggested, grinning.

   "Perhaps," thought Yvgeny, "then I think we have that ability to live in
the day and not think of tomorrow.  'Today I am alive and I'll wash my
socks.' We concern ourselves with the little details of life, that's how we
cope."

   "Did you go ashore?"

   "A little."

   "To 'requisition canned beef'?" the Ensign asked chuckling.

   The Admiral put his head back and roared with laughter.  It dissolved
into a coughing fit and Ensign Koscuiko was concerned.  Yvgeny waved him
away with the flick of a wrist, wiped his eyes and lit another cigarette.

   "Aye, well..." he continued when he'd recovered, "the Count, you see,
had a positive talent for finding girls.  I think even in a monastery... 
He spoke not a word of Vietnamese, but..."

   "But?"

   "Money, you see, is a great translator of languages," he laughed.

   --------------------------------------------

   Shore leave was restricted.  There wasn't much at Cam Ranh to interest
the sailors anyway except an opportunity to stretch one's legs.  The locals
had a few stalls set up.  You could buy atrocious French red wine at
inflated prices as well as food.  A few handicrafts could be picked up,
straw hats and things, but nothing like Nossi Be'.

   The houses of the villages were mostly native straw hooches except for a
French Hospital in ubiquitous red brick.  The Hospital was run by nuns, to
whom the Russians accorded the utmost respect.  Randy, as a lot of them
were, they feared Hell worse.  In deference to the Holy order the sailors
wore their underwear when swimming in the bay.

   In the presence of the nuns even Peter Szpetznar's behaviour was
modified.  On Sundays he even went to Catholic Mass held outside the chapel
attached to the Hospital.

   "Come, Tovaritch," Count Khlodovsky yelled as he strutted onto the
Grozny, "where is the Mad Pole?"

   "Mass, why?" answered Yvgeny.

   "Feeling his mortality?" asked the Count, "why all the piety all of a
sudden?"

   "Ah, well, the sight of the cross on that hill over there made him come
over all funny."

   "If he's gone to confession then I doubt we'll see him for a month. 
Never mind," he dropped his voice, "I have some diversions in store for
you. Are you on duty?"

   "Just writing letters home."

   "That can wait.  Come, Yvgeny, my man will row us to the beach."

   The humidity ashore made their clothes wet as Feodor led Yvgeny along an
earthen track inland.  Nearby were a few paddy fields.  Women in straw hats
were bent over, thigh deep in water, planting rice.  Some women had young
children strapped to their backs as they worked.  Yvgeny was impressed by
the strength and endurance of these Vietnamese women.  It put their own
hardships into sharp relief.

   Feodor led him to a little hamlet about 3 kilometres from the coast. 
Here the humidity rose appreciably.  The air stank with humanity, mud and
vegetation.

   "What are we doing here?" Yvgeny asked.

   "Patience, tovaritch."

   The Count strode up to a hooch set on stilts to allow the air, and the
monsoon rains, to pass underneath.  An old man, back bent and deep lines on
his face, appeared at the opening.  The Count passed over a packet wrapped
in hessian to the old man who bowed and smiled toothlessly.  The man
disappeared back into the hooch and the Count led Yvgeny further on to the
edge of the hamlet.

   "What was in the packet?" Yvgeny asked.

   "Opium," he replied, "I've just made Thanh a rich man."

   "But," stammered Yvgeny in surprise.

   "The old men smoke it," he explained, "a bit of comfort in old age. 
Hell, I'd imagine they have little else to look forward to."

   The Count led Yvgeny to another hooch, outside of which an old
Grandmother watched small children play while deftly weaving a basket.  She
looked up briefly as the two Russians approached before going back to her
occupation.  Feodor ducked into the door.

   As Yvgeny entered he was plunged into darkness.  It was a little while
before his eyes adjusted to the dimness inside the hooch.

   Inside three girls squatted on mats on the floor.  Yvgeny thought they
looked very young.  It was hard to tell age with the Vietnamese, he'd
found. They wore simple shifts dyed with bright colours.  Their long hair
was loose and cascaded down to their legs.

   "We seem to have one spare," Feodor said, "I thought the Pole was
coming."

   "Feodor, this isn't right," Yvgeny told him, "they're too young.  And
that old man, what right has he to..."

   "Sell his women?  Absolutely every right, he's the headman.  This is a
different culture.  They have a different way of doing things, different
rules.  As for too young, they're old enough or they wouldn't have been
offered."

   "Still..."

   "Yvgeny, you can do what you like.  Ask them to give you a bath,
perhaps. They rub you down with sand scented with oils, it's very
envigorating.  You don't have to fuck them if you don't want to."

   "I suppose," Yvgeny said doubtfully.

   "That's the spirit," he said, slapping Yvgeny on the back, "I will take
the spare one as well just to ease your concience," he laughed.  "Which one
do you fancy?"

   Yvgeny examined the three girls.  They all looked downwards as a sign of
respect.  He thought they looked like sisters, they were similar in
appearance.

   "I guess...  her," he said reluctantly.

   "Done!" the Count clapped his hands, "come," he said putting his arms
around the two other girls, "I fancy a dip."

   The two girls followed the Count outside.  The other looked up furtively
at Yvgeny, the briefest of smiles flashed across her face.

   "What the Hell," he mumbled and took the girl by the hand.  He led her
outside and after the Count.

   He slowed his big Russian stride to allow the girl to keep pace easily.
She was small and barely reached his elbow in height.  Her breasts made
hardly an impression in her loose shift, however her small bottom was
perfectly formed and swayed invitingly.

   The Count's group walked off the track a little way out of the hamlet.
Yvgeny could hear the girls giggling.  Following them, they arrived at a
pond surrounded by dense bushes that draped into the water.  A trickling
stream fed it with fresh water, flushing out the silt.  It was a tiny
secluded oasis of clear water amid the brown of the paddy fields.

   "What do you say, eh Yvgeny?  Such luxury and handmaidens as well. 
There is a hut behind those trees if you desire privacy."

   With that he began to throw off his clothes to the delight of his two
female companions.  Roaring he plunged into the water.  "C'mon ladies!"

   The two girls pulled their shifts over their heads.  Underneath they
both wore matching French silk panties in pale blue.  Yvgeny looked at the
Count questioningly.  "Little gifts," the Count explained, "yours has a
pair too."

   "What are their names?" Yvgeny asked.

   "Ah, this one I call Natasha and her Anushka.  Yours is called Nataliya.
What their real names are I've no idea.  I can't understand a word they
say," he laughed.  "But they catch on pretty fast.  Hey, Anushka, grab that
jar of yours and soap me up, will you?"

   Anushka fetched a clay jar from the side of the pool and waded towards
the Count.  Grabbing a handful of sand she began to smear it on the Count's
back.  With a sigh of pleasure, Feodor moved to the edge of the pool and
sat down.  "Natasha, I think my front for you." Giggling, the other girl
approached him and began to soap his chest.  The Count threw his head back
and closed his eyes.  "Are you getting in, Tovaritch?  It's very
enjoyable."

   Yvgeny took off his clothes.  Beside him he could hear a shuffling as
Nataliya did likewise.  He looked briefly at the semi-naked girl.  She was
indeed wearing pale blue French knickers.

   Her tan skin was smooth and flawless.  Her breasts would hardly fill an
egg-cup, tiny cones with prominent dark nipples.  Her hair hung down to her
waist, straight, lustrous and thick.  He watched her as she waded into the
water.  A furrow peeped enticingly under the waistband of her underwear.

   He sat down a little way from the Count.  Nataliya waded over and spread
some of the scented sand on his back.  Faintly gritty, the sand foamed as
she scrubbed.

   "What did I tell you?" grinned the Count.  Yvgeny nodded before closing
his eyes to concentrate on the sensations.

   He felt her cool hands circle around to his chest.  Her body brushed
against his back, he could feel her stiff little nipples and her thick
hair. Despite his misgivings, he was becoming aroused.

   Beside him he could hear more giggling as the Count began to return the
favours.  Yvgeny spied him from the corner of his eye running his hands
over Natasha's body.  She didn't appear to be averse to his attentions.  In
fact she sat in his lap and pressed herself against him.  Shortly two sets
of hands were fishing between his legs below the water.  At that point
Yvgeny decided to take Nataliya somewhere more private.

   She seemed to understand quickly and drew him by the hand between the
trees.  As the Count had told him, there was a small hooch there, its door
covered by woven matting.

   Inside, the hooch was covered by straw palettes.  A small statue of
Buddha and some clay jars were the only other furnishings.  Nataliya
fetched some joss sticks, lit them with a flint, and set them in holders
beside the statue.  The scent was of sandalwood and soon pervaded the
little hut.

   Yvgeny stretched himself out on his back and closed his eyes.  Soon he
felt small cool hands on his body once more.  Instead of the soap-sand, her
palms were covered in scented oil.  He opened his eyes briefly to watch the
girl.  Her face was a study in concentration as she carefully moved her
fingers over his chest.

   She still wore her French underwear, now wet and clinging to her crotch.
She knelt astride his leg as she worked.  Yvgeny felt the sensation of
warm, wet silk on his lower leg.  His cock began to expand once more.

   Presently his body glistened with oil.  Tentatively her fingers moved
between his thighs until they brushed his balls.  His cock throbbed,
jutting straight up like the Grozny's mainmast.  Nataliya brushed the back
of her hand along it.  Yvgeny looked up and caught her smiling.

   She slowly and exquisitely stroked his erection.  She shuffled up so she
could press him between her thighs and against the damp silk.  Her expert
fist continued to tease him until his cock ached with anticipation.

   Yvgeny reached out and ran his fingers over the girl's smooth thighs. 
She pressed her crotch harder against him, each movement threatening to
cause him to burst.  He moved his thumbs so they could explore her
silk-covered folds.  Pressing the fabric into her crack, he felt her
wriggle against his probing fingers.

   She stood up suddenly and Yvgeny opened his eyes in frustration. 
Quickly she lowered her knickers to reveal a sparse patch of damp pubic
hair and glistening, pink, pussy lips.  Returning to her perch she pressed
his hard cock back against her crotch.  The prickly texture of her hair,
the slippery warmth of her pussy was almost too much to bear.  She squeezed
him hard in her fist to delay his crisis.

   "Eh eh," he told her, "you'll kill me!" Nataliya just smiled back at him
and continued her manipulations.

   Outside he could hear splashing and laughter.  The high-pitched giggling
of the two girls contrasted with the lusty bellow of the Count.

   After a time that seemed like an eternity, Nataliya rose up in and
fitted him inside her pussy.  Wriggling her arse, she slowly lowered
herself down onto his cock.  For a brief while she just rested, Yvgeny
buried deep inside her, then she began to move her arse around.

   She squeezed his dick with her muscles as she wriggled around on him. 
Presently she started a steady rhythm, her arse moving back and forth. 
Yvgney opened his eyes and watched the concentration on her pretty Asian
face.  Her mouth was open a fraction and her eyes were slighty glassy. 
Giving pleasure was obviously a serious business for this girl.

   Nataliya sharply sucked in her breath.  She gasped briefly and clenched
his dick in response.  Her movements became more urgent, she moved faster
and faster.

   "Oh!" she gasped in a little sing-song voice, "uh!"

   Yvgeny was boiling, ready to burst inside her.  His cock ached.  He held
her thighs and urged her to move faster.  She shook her arse rapidly,
coaxing him to an orgasm.  When he came, it was in a series of long,
sustained pulses that set Yvgeny crying out.

   After, she slowed down, a look of satisfaction on her face in a job
well-done.  She eased herself off him and they both returned to the pool to
wash off.

   The Count was still stretched out by the edge.  Anushka's head was
between his legs bobbing up and down on him.  Yvgeny and Nataliya moved
discreetly to the other side where they washed each other down.

   Once again, he held a naked girl who was not his Katka.  She settled
into his lap and watched the Count Khladovsky take his pleasure with her
two companions.  Yvgeny closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of
love-making from the other side of the pool.  The water lapped around him
as Feodor took one of the girls from behind.

   Yvgeny was thoughtful as he accompanied the Count back to the beach and
the waiting boat.  'Yes,' he thought, 'it had been an enjoyable afternoon.'
But his concience disturbed him.  He wasn't comfortable with what he
considered the exploitation of women who lacked a free choice.  Maybe the
propaganda of the Socialists was beginning to have an effect on him?
   KATZMAREK(C)

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