Defend the Motherland with Our Lives

Catherine II drew a deep breath and looked at the officers standing solemnly around her. In an even tone, she said, "Then which corps is currently closest to Crimea?"

Without hesitation, Zubov replied, "Morkov Corps in Mozyr..."

At once, everyone turned blade-sharp gazes upon him.

Marshal Repnin hurriedly cut him off. "Your Majesty, the Saratov Corps turned south a week ago. It may reach Crimea in a month and a half."

The Tsar glanced at him, her voice turning cold. "A month and a half. Very well, then tell me—can Bakhchysarai hold out for a month and a half?"

Repnin lowered his head in silence.

He knew that the Polish Army in Crimea had even managed to chew through Kursk Fortress. Even if they were short on supplies now, Bakhchysarai could never hold them off for so long.

Catherine II's plump hand struck the table as she swept her gaze over the room again. "Who can tell me who we should send now to deal with those Poles?"

Marshal Rumyantsev forced himself to step forward. "Your Majesty, perhaps Count Zubov is right. The safest course is to send Morkov Corps south. If they make a Forced March, they need only twenty days to reach Bakhchysarai."

Catherine II suddenly seemed unable to suppress her rage any longer. She shot to her feet, braced both hands against the table, and roared, "Shame! This is a disgrace to the Empire!

"A mere ten thousand Polish soldiers are roaming freely through our territory! They are on the verge of destroying Crimea!"

"You were all here two months ago. You told me there was no need to concern ourselves with these Poles—that they would starve to death.

"And now?

"Not only have they not starved to death, they have pushed hundreds of li inland and