AN INTERVIEW WITH GORSHIN (Part 9)





By KATZMAREK(C)





June passed and drifted into July. Yvgeny Gorshin and the other
survivors of the Second Pacific Squadron waited with varying
degrees of patience for their tickets home. They were a long
time coming.


A round of promotions was forthcoming, however. The Viceroy of
the Russian Far East, Admiral Alexeev, perhaps in an attempt at
repairing his tarnished prestige, showered his returned 'heroes'
with rewards.


Mladshiy Leytenant (Junior or Sub Lieutenant) Yvgeny Gorshin
became a Starshiy Leytenant (Senior Lieutenant), a jump of two
grades. In addition he was awarded the Marine Cross for Bravery.
He accepted these rewards with some reluctance because he'd a
suspicion it was more for political purposes than for anything
he'd achieved.


Indeed, the recriminations had already started. Poor old
Nebogatov was roundly condemned by the press for surrendering
and there was talk of courts-martial for him and Captain Yung of
the Ural. Rhozdventsky himself was depicted as a brilliant
commander badly let down by his subordinates. 'If only,' the
newspaper 'Rossiyi'i Vremya' proclaimed, 'his Captains had
followed the Admiral's orders then a victory would have been
achieved.' 


"The only way we could've achieved victory," muttered Peter
Szpetznar, "was if the Japanese hadn't showed up." He threw the
Newspaper away in disgust.


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


"We all of us were getting pretty bored and homesick,"
explained Admiral Gorshin. "Peter decided to get married to one
of the nurses. He turned back to the Church again, as he had at
Camh Ranh... gave up booze and carousing and became very
domestic."


"Things were not going well with Yulia and myself. Guilt, I
think was eating up her insides... we fought and argued but she
didn't move out. She had to have someone to hold her at night
but sex was slowly receding from our relationship. It was
frustrating for me."


"What were conditions like in the East after the ceasefire?"
asked the Ensign.


"Well!" the Admiral sighed, "everyone waited to go home but for
us Navy people we were kept there. I don't think the Admiralty
wanted us home until they'd found their scapegoats for Tsushima."


"Vladivostok was in fear. Inflation was rife... the value of
the Rouble plummeted and a lot of ordinary families were wiped
out. People begged in the streets whom you never thought would.
Law
and order was breaking down and Admiral Alexeev ordered Cossacks
to police the streets. Kuban Cossacks they were... cruel
bastards," muttered the Admiral.


"For a month I went on a bender. There was nothing else to do
but drink. The Navy weren't giving orders, the ships stayed tied
up. One day I decided to go to Vladivostok to find a tailor for
my new uniform. I hired a car, a Benz Tourer with dualed wheels
spiked for snow and drove to town."  


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


Yvgeny found people huddled in doorways or grouped around fires
to escape the cold. He left the Benz and trudged through the
snow-bound streets dim in the half-light of Winter.


The Grand Hotel stood shabby from the hard months of siege and
destitution. One of the few estabishments left that hadn't been
requisitioned by the military. Inflation, however, had put the
rooms out of most ordinary citizens' means. Consequently, its
few guests were people of 'quality' forced to take lodgings
there because they had no other means of getting back West.


The faded, paint-flaked frontage was a magnet for beggars and
prostitutes.  It was one of the few places they could gather
without being harrassed by Cossack Guards. As sleighs or
automobiles arrived they besieged the occupants, who in many
cases threw coins to the crowd then bolted for the double doors.
An armed Bellhop then permitted them inside.


The Khlodovsky Agent had secured a suite for Yvgeny on the
second floor. It transpired the family estate owned the
premises. As he arrived on foot he was assisted by an arriving
Troika-load of guests that enabled him to slip around the crowd.


On the steps of the Hotel, however, a couple huddled under
blankets. They looked exhausted and barely managed to look up as
Yvgeny quickly hustled towards the door.


The door opened slightly as he reached it and he saw the pale
face of a young staff member.


"Papers, Sir?" he asked in a monotone. Seeing the couple, he
yelled past Yvgeny, "hey you, fuck off!" To emphasise the order,
he poked the long barrel of a bayoneted military rifle at the
pathetic pair.


"That's not necessary!" Yvgeny told the man, outraged. "They're
exhausted!"


"I must keep the doorway clear," he explained.


"Fine, let them inside," Yvgeny replied. The man, though,
grinned as if he had made a joke. "You two," Yvgeny told them,
"inside, here!"


The Bellhop's jaw sagged in shock.


"You can't..." he started to say as Yvgeny made to assist the
couple to the door.


"My guests," he grinned as he pushed them inside past the
gaping Bellhop.


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


The hotel looked like a village under siege. The Manager
himself sported a Smith and Wesson revolver, then standard
Russian Navy issue. He started to protest about Yvgeny's
'guests' but something in the manner of the young man made him
lapse into a brooding silence. He sullenly handed Yvgeny his
room key and directed him to the elevator.


The couple were cloaked in furs of a reasonable quality, Yvgeny
observed. Possibly they had lived a comfortable life South of
the Yalu river in Korea? Maybe they'd been the family of a
timber worker whose living had  been wiped out by the Japanese
invasion? Perhaps they'd accompanied the Army East, the family
of one of the many Siberian infantrymen? In any case they risked
death by exposure and malnutrition in the freezing, unforgiving
street outside.


Yvgeny's suite was only marginally heated, enough to take the
chill off the air and little else. Fuel was at a premium and the
central heating was only fired up about 2 hours a day. It was
enough, however, for them to doff their thick winter clothing.


His 'guests' appeared to be a Mother and Child. They'd a
European appearance rather than Siberian, pale with round eyes.
The older woman seemed to be in her thirties or forties.
Hardship had made her old before her time. Her sad eyes were
fixed on the Samarkand rug.


The other was a girl, perhaps 11 or 12. She peered furtively at
Yvgeny with startled eyes. Her face was blank as if in some sort
of trance. Yvgeny ordered food for all of them and noted a flash
of expectancy flick over the Woman's face. Clearly they hadn't
had a decent meal for some time.


"Senior Lieutenant Gorshin," Yvgeny announced in a voice louder
than was necessary. "And you are, Madam?"


"Latinka Yevtushenko," she replied in a whisper.


"And you're from?" 


"Khabarovsk," she answered. "My husband is a Sergeant in the
Siberian Rifles," she continued, "I have not heard from him in
six or seven weeks. I came here to look for him... no-one knows
where he is."


"I'm sorry, Madam," Yvgeny told her, "perhaps his regiment has
gone North with the army?"


The Woman shook her head. "His regiment has been relieved from
the lines. They have him listed as 'missing, believed dead'."


"I see." Yvgeny's attempt at consoling seemed lame to his ears
and he lapsed into silence.


"Thank you Lieutenant..." she whispered, "I think we would have
died out there. We could get no shelter."


"You must stay here until you've regained your strength," he
told them.


"You're too kind... Perhaps you could find out what happened to
my Husband? 109th East Siberian Volunteer Rifles... Colonel
Khretski..."


"I will make some enquiries," Yvgeny promised, "but I can't
guarantee..."


"Thank you... you being an officer, perhaps?"


"Navy, Madam," Gorshin explained, "but I have some influential
friends, perhaps..."


The Woman nodded slightly with the very briefest of smiles. The
tension was broken by the arrival of a tureen of hot soup and
black bread.


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



"The Woman's husband had likely died of Dysentery," Admiral
Gorshin explained, "it was rife in the trenches at that time. The
Medical facilities  had been overwhelmed and he could've passed
away at any number of Aid stations and his body thrown into a
common grave. That was the fate of many of the ordinary
soldiers. They were supposed to keep his paybook and papers but
often the Medics were too busy to bother with such details. This
was before dogtags, you understand."


"So you never found her husband?" asked the Archivist.


"No. Nearly 15,000 soldiers of the Russo-Japanese War are still
officially missing in action. Most of them would have succumbed
to disease... got lost and froze to death in the snow... that
sort of thing. I found out through the Khlodovsky Agent that
this Sergeant had been left behind when the Army retreated from
Mukden. He was not in the prisoner list so... The Japanese
didn't take many prisoners in any case. Likely if he'd been
found by them they would've bayoneted him as a matter of course."


"You told Latinka this?"


"She knew," he shrugged, "I'm certain of it. Husbands and wives
have this way of knowing when each other's safe or... Certainly
Katka knew if I'd  the flu from 800 kilometres away. 'Get your
arse to bed' she'd tell me on the phone... uncanny."


"So you kept them at the Hotel?"


"We were snowed in for a week. I ordered my uniform from a
Naval Tailor once when the phone was working and they sent this
young lad around to measure me up. Everything was in short
supply so it was a good two weeks before they finished it.
Meanwhile Latinka and her daughter stayed in the Hotel with me. 
With regular food they recovered their strength quickly. After a
while we almost felt like a family, all cooped up like that with
no way of getting out. They needed a protector, you see, and I
was glad of the company."


"Where did you all sleep?" the Ensign asked, "I mean, there
can't have been much room and..."


"Together, of course, and I think you know it's a common
Siberian practice," Gorshin grinned. "It's the best way of
staying warm."


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


Yvgeny, Latinka and her daughter all bunked together from the
first day. In the cold conditions it was the most practical way
of staying warm, and in Siberia there weren't necessarily any
sexual connotations. Latinka, though, slept with her back to
Yvgeny and spooned her daughter in front of her.


They'd few possessions with them. The most precious was an icon
of Saint Basileus which Latinka kissed and hugged to herself
before retiring for the night. Saint Basileus, the Patron Saint
of the Orthodox Church, protector of the weak and dispossessed,
he who gives comfort to the living and salvation for the dead. 


After a few days, Yvgeny and Latinka began a habit of a
murmured conversation while she cradled her daughter to sleep.
They told each other of their lives and families. Hers were
livestock farmers in the Amur river valley.


The Yevtushenkos had immigrated from the Ukraine in the 1880s
when much of the fertile Amur region was opened up for
agriculture. A good living was had there, from forestry, farming
and mining. The Government had offered big incentives to
immigrants from European Russia, both to stake their claim on
the rich region and to take advantage of the new railway. The
mainly French investors of the Trans-Siberian needed decent
traffic volumes to guarantee them a return. The immense land
area of Russia was difficult to develop and required huge
amounts of investment capital. 


Latinka's face was lined with fatigue that only slightly faded
as she recovered her strength. Only 39, she had the look of a
'Babushka' already, although her only daughter, Grusha, was
barely 13 and too young to marry. Her body was lean, though her
shoulders broad. She was clearly someone well-used to the hard
work of a farmer's wife. Her Husband had been one of the huge
numbers of Territorial Reservists Russia could call into service
in times of war. In 1905, there had been around 15 million of
them, though only a fraction of these had been sent to the
front. 


This tradition of military service would be of vital assistance
to Leon Trotsky's Red Army in the Civil War of 1919/21. And, of
course, the charnel houses of the 1st World War. 15 million men
knew how to march, shoot and dig a hole in the frozen ground.


Yvgeny enjoyed the warmth of Latinka's body. Although her back
was hard and bony, her arse was as soft as any Woman's. His
young body responded to the stimulus in the usual way. He woke
with a hard-on.


Latinka feigned not to notice at first, athough she couldn't
have been unaware. Yvgeny turned the other way and thought of
dips in the ice cold ocean. He dreamt of falling overboard in
the Arctic and concentrated on the feeling until his erection
subsided.


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


One morning, however, around the fifth day, Yvgeny was about to
turn over when he felt a hand snake down to his groin. It
lightly gripped his stiff cock preventing him from moving away.


He caught his breath and looked over at the body next to him.
She didn't appear to be awake; however her hand was busy
exploring his member. She started to rub him firmly bringing him
quickly to a crisis. Some weeks without sex had primed him and
it wasn't long before he began pumping his hot fluid into his
underwear.


"Shit!" he muttered, and the hand swiftly left him. He rolled
out of bed to clean himself up. When he returned, his two
companions still slumbered peacefully.


The next morning followed the previous one. This time, however,
Yvgeny didn't bother trying to turn away. The hand crept down to
his cock and rubbed him to ejaculation. Yvgeny was grateful for
the relief.


Her 'assistance' in the mornings was not mentioned by either of
them. Yvgeny enjoyed their little episodes, she was quite
skilled at handjobs, and he didn't want to embarrass her. He
decided it was her way of showing gratitude and he was happy to
go along with it.


The next evening, however, they had shared some vodka after an
unusually large evening meal. The blizzard had eased and some
much-needed supplies had arrived from the port. Grusha fell
asleep on the great padded sofa and Latinka put her to bed. The
woman's face was flushed with the effects of a good meal and the
alcohol. The vodka had loosened her tongue as they sat together,
feet up on the radiator, which was working once again.


"You're a good man, Yvgeny Gorshin," she slurred, "very good
man. Your Katka will be very lucky to have you as a husband."
Her eyes twinkled with mischief, it seemed to take years off
her. "My Gregoriy was a good man, but years of hard work turned
him inward upon himself, you understand?" Yvgeny nodded. "But he
looked after us... silly bastard to get himself killed...
peasant stock... didn't know when to duck. Don't believe he died
of sickness... he was a big man... strong. He would have charged
the Japanese single-handed. Lost his temper, probably, always
had an evil temper, my Gregoriy."


"You're probably right," Yvgeny agreed, even though he was sure
he'd died of disentery. If the woman wanted to believe her man
got
killed performing some heroic deed, then he wasn't going to
argue.


Eventually she tottered to the bed and got in beside her
sleeping daughter. Yvgeny followed and snuggled himself against
her back. He put his hand on her shoulder and she pulled his arm
around her. Pressing into her soft bottom, however, Yvgeny's
cock began to stiffen. He aligned it with the cleft of her arse
cheeks, but even still the mearest twitch made it pulse with
exquisite pleasure. He thought she was pressing back at him
though his mind was clouding with drowsiness.


Unmistakable, though, was the familiar hand snaking its way
between them. This time, however, she had taken his hand and
pushed it under the top of her nightgown. Wordlessly, she
allowed him to seek out her naked breast.


Yvgeny happily suckled the Woman while she manipulated him.
When he tried to become more intimate by reaching between her
legs, she tactfully pushed his hand away. She then worked her
own fingers against herself keeping rhythm with her other hand
on Yvgeny's cock.


Her body jiggled with the effort. She breathed hard through
clenched teeth. Her head tilted back as if her eyes sought
heaven, although they were firmly shut. Yvgeny felt the warm
skin of her thigh pressing against his leg as she spread herself
wider, nightgown pulled up shamelessly. 


Latinka opened her mouth and released a muffled groan. Just then
Yvgeny looked up and saw the face of Grusha, her daughter, eyes
wide in shock, staring. However, Yvgeny was past caring as he
pumped his sperm over his nightshirt.


When he returned from washing he found his little 'family'
snoozing peacefully. He crawled back behind Latinka and put his
arm protectively over her. She didn't stir.


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


The storm abated after a week. By agreement with General
Oyama's Japanese army the Russians were permitted to use the
Manchurian Railway which eased the traffic backlog. Wounded
soldiers had first priority. 


Admiral Togo permitted merchant shipping to resume using the
port. Five cargo vessels were escorted practically inside the
harbour by Japanese cruisers. The crews of the shore batteries
'Natasha' and 'Aleta' on promontories at the harbour mouth
glowered at the Japanese as they hovered insolently at point
blank range. The muzzles of the huge Naval guns tracked the
escorts menacingly before the cruisers slipped back out to sea.


Even the battered cruiser 'Rossiya' made its first tentative
voyage from the Navy dock to a berth at the base. There were
signs that the Navy and the port of Vladivostok were slowly
awakening from their torpor.


Yvgeny reported to the base for duty but was told to relax,
given 3 weeks leave and sent back to the hotel. He wandered down
to the Manchurian Station to watch the bustle of activity. Long
lines of wagons were being shunted onto sidings while half-a-
dozen locomotives shrouded the platforms in grey steam. Already
horse-drawn wagons were arriving carrying the wounded for
transportation West.


The general mood of the town was lifting. There was a lot more
talking and laughter and people were moving about as if they had
purpose. The Cossacks still rode about or stood guard by public
buildings but they began to look bored.


He collected his new uniform from the Tailors. It came complete
with a winter greatcoat and fur hat of dark blue. He found it a
comfortable fit and happily discarded his old uniform, now well
lived-in. Now resplendent, the Hotel staff accorded him an
entirely new level of respect. He had to explain to the Manager
that 'Excellency' was a form of address to flag officers only.
Still, obsequiousness was preferable to the sullen indifference
he was used to at the Hotel.


Latinka clicked her tongue at Yvgeny's new image. She nodded 
approval at the cut and style and fingered his shiny gold 
epaulettes. Even Grusha stared at their sponsor with something 
approaching admiration.


Still, nothing had been mentioned of their night time activities.
One time, though, Yvgeny interrupted what had clearly been an 
argument between Grusha and her Mother.


"How could you let him?" Grusha had been saying.


"You don't understand," Latinka had responded.


"Is that what you have to do to stay here?" her daughter had
asked.


"No."


"Then why?"


The answer went unsaid as they heard Yvgeny return.


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


"Well, you know how it is with young girls," explained the
Admiral. The Ensign shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm sure you do, the
hormones, you know. Irrational outbursts, crying, all these
emotions..."


"You're saying that this Grusha had developed feelings..."


"A crush on me? Most certainly. Jealous of her Mother? Probably.
Things became very tense."


"I bet!" 


"You must understand I was drinking heavily at the time."


"Of course."


"Boredom, tension. Like sitting forgotten in a Doctor's waiting
room wondering when you're going to be seen..."


"I understand. You're saying you had an affair with the
daughter... as well as the Mother?"


"Sort of. I must have been very handsome in my new uniform."


"Must have been," the Ensign agreed as the old man chuckled.


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


They had been out celebrating. A party had been in full swing
in the Hotel dining room. The end of the War? Someone's Birthday?
Maybe a rejoicing that they were alive when so many of their
friends weren't? Gorshin couldn't remember.


The three of them returned to their room in various states of
intoxication. The worst for wear was Latinka. She flopped onto
the padded sofa, leant against the arm, and before long was
making a noise not unlike a badly-tuned gasoline engine.


Grusha was flushed and talkative, having had a carefully-
monitored glass of champagne. She kept asking when Yvgeny was
going home, told him about her pet calves and how beautiful the
Amur was in Winter.


Yvgeny suspected she wanted him to return with them to their
Khabarovsk farm. He knew nothing of farming and had no
inclination to learn. If Latinka wanted a new husband she would
have to look elsewhere.


Yvgeny, though was non-committal and merely told the girl he
would love to see the farm one day. She seemed content with the
reaction.


"Will you take me to bed?" she asked to Yvgeny's astonishment.
Her face, though, was a picture of innocence. She nodded towards
her sleeping Mother and Yvgeny concluded she merely wanted to be
cuddled to sleep. He felt flattered that she should trust him
enough, and so regard him, to sleep with him alone.


"Of course," he told her, smiling. She beamed at him in response.


When she emerged from the large, walk-in wardrobe where the
ladies dressed, she was wearing a long, loose nightshirt that
hung to her ankles. It laced to the neck. However she'd left an
expanse of chest exposed that revealed the merest hint of
cleavage. Her budding breasts bobbed unfettered beneath the
cotton as she walked across the room.



Grusha Yevtushenko was not a postcard model but she had a
pleasant face. Her eyes were undimmed by the hardships of her
life and glowed with youth and enthusiasm. Tall for her age, her
hips flared and her body curved in a way that belied her 13
years. She was a girl at the very threshold of womanhood.


She smiled at him as she got into bed. Instead of turning her
back, however, she lay on her back as Yvgeny got in beside her.
He put his arm around her neck, expecting her to roll over with
her back to him. She remained where she was, though.


Smiling enigmatically, she offered her lips for a goodnight kiss.
Well, for what Yvgeny *thought* was a goodnight kiss...


KATZMAREK (C)
