The Admiral's Woman

By Robert Hendry

The newly married 20 y.o. Lidiya Petrova relaxes on the yacht of her husband, Admiral Mikhail Petrov, C-in-C, Black Sea Fleet. It is an idyllic life. Soon Mikhail is under arrest and Lidiya is a fugitive, as a plot to murder Yuri Andropov takes shape. The impractical 'Little Dreamer' must lose the guy who saved her, or win through in a dramatic action packed novel set in the USSR.
Adult Content

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Hendry
• Release date: Jan 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458019172

Robert Hendry

Hi there.My name is Robert Hendry, and over the past 30 years, I have 26 published Non-Fiction books in paper form. I recently decided I would like to branch out into the Fiction field, initially with a subject I have studied for a similar length of time, the Soviet Union.During that time I got to know a good deal about Soviet military hardware and operational doctrine, and after the break up of the USSR, it was interesting to actually see at first hand the stuff I had studied at a distance.Seeing a Termit Surface to surface missile fired for real beats any number of photos!The majority o COl War Era novels have a Western hero and Soviet baddies. In the 1980s, as the Brezhnev era ground to a stand, various factions view for power, and my novels have brought in a limited CIA or MI6 involvement, but the main action is between good guys and bad guys in the USSR.The First Novel to be relesed on Smashwords is "To Kill Our WOrthy Comrade", which covers a plot to assassinate the General Secretary at his dacha in the Crimea in 1981. The real 1991 plot took place at the replacement dacha just a few kilometres along the coast.The novel introduces the C-in-C of the Black Sea FLeet, Admiral Petrov who is drawn into the fight to defeat the plotters and a 19 year old girl communications rating, Lidiya. She is one of those girls who just seem to attract trouble, as you will discover in the Lidiya Petrova Series No 2 and No 3.I managed to get No 2, The Admiral's Woman on line, and if you felt that Lidiya had a pretty easy time in No 1, and landed on her feet, you will fidcover that things get a bit more hectic for the lovely Lidiya in "The Admiral's Woman".As you will have gathered I have these two very different publishing careers and I have thoroughly enjoyed both of them. As a historian, I have to rely on available sources, and imagination is not on. As a novelist, it is important to get facts right but after that the more imaginative and original the storyline the better.All the BestRObert H

Book preview

The Admiral’s Woman

By Robert Hendry

Published by Lidiya Petrova Novels,

An Imprint of Hillside Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 R P Hendry

The Moral Right of the author has been asserted.

All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters who appear in this book, with the exception of Leonid Brezhnev, Yuri Andropov, Mikhail Suslov, Marshal Dmiti Ustinov, Admiral Sergey Gorshkov, General Petr Ivashutin, Marshal Nikolay Ogarkov, Boris Ponomarev, Mikhail Mil and Grigory Mairanovsky, are fictitious and the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or business establishments is purely co-incidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright Robert Hendry 2010

An Extract

Ira turned the gun towards Markov.

‘The last time, you got away with it. I think the evidence is good enough this time to make sure that you will die, but when you killed Fedor you killed me as well.’

Markov looked at the implacable hatred in her eyes. He wondered how a woman that was filled with such fury could have been so passionate in bed, and then realised. The sexy Ira would have gone down into hell to avenge the death of the man she loved. To Irina, allowing herself to be pawed by Markov had been a descent into a peculiarly revolting hell, but it was now over.

As Markov stared into her eyes, he realised that Ira was not content to hand him over for trial. He was looking his own executioner in the eyes. Somehow, he knew that when the hatred vanished from her eyes, she would squeeze the trigger. A contented smile came over her face. He realised that the diminutive Ira, who was about to kill him, was breathtakingly pretty, even in the uniform of a KGB lieutenant.

About the Author

Robert Hendry is a successful Non-Fiction author with 26 published titles. The Lidiya Petrova Series is his first venture into the fiction field, but draws on thirty years study of the Soviet Union, and first hand knowledge of much of the military hardware and many of the locations that appear in this series. Robert has seen live firings of a variety of Soviet missiles; he has seen and photographed Soviet warships, helicopters, armoured vehicles and support vehicles at close range. He has watched Naval infantry and Spetsnaz Naval frogmen training, and was present when a World War Two Nazi mine had to be removed from Sevastopol harbour.

He is married to a charming Russian girl, Elena, and has three daughters.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction were 18 years of age or older at the date the story commences in 1982

THE ADMIRAL’S WOMAN

By

Robert Hendry

Motor Yacht Angara, off the Swallow’s Nest, west of Yalta, 26 June 1982

The sky was a vivid blue without a cloud from horizon to horizon. The noon sun blazed down, its rays striking 20 year old Lidiya Mikhailovna. She lay in a deckchair wearing a black bikini, and absorbing the sun, but with dark glasses to shade her eyes. Although her body was bronzed from exposure to the sun since the spring, she knew she would need to cover up within the next few minutes. If not, she would look like a boiled lobster, but the decision could be left yet awhile.

If she had been sunbathing on the beach in Sevastopol, the beautiful city at the southern tip of the Crimea, that she now called ‘home’, it would have been stiflingly hot. Instead, the luxury yacht she was aboard was travelling at 12 knots just off the south coast of the Crimea. There were superb views of the rugged Ai-Petri Mountains that form the backbone of the coast from Sevastopol to beyond Yalta.

Two wine glasses sat on the table near the deckchair. Both were more than half full. One contained a light amber coloured liquid. It was a White Muscat of the Red Stone, which was one of the finest wines produced by the legendary Masandra Winery just outside Yalta. ‘Red Stone’ was the creation of A A Egorov, a great wine maker of the 1940s. He had added his genius to the rich heritage of wines produced for the Imperial palate by Prince Lev Golitsyn. The prince, who took many of his recipes to the grave, such as his exquisite ‘Honey of the Altae Pastures’ was truly the ‘Prince of wine makers’, but Egorov was a worthy successor.

The second glass, which was so well iced that the outside of the glass was frosted with condensation, was closer to Lidiya. It would have been easy to assume that it contained one of the many exquisite wines from the Crimean vineyards. Instead, it contained lemon and lime. Twice in her life, Lidiya had drunk more than was wise, and being a sensible girl, she had no wish to make it three times. She had already relished a glass of Red Stone, and when a refill was offered, had suggesting something non-alcoholic.

The 12-knot breeze took away the stifling heat without chilling her. With glorious sun, a perfect breeze to cool her, the second refreshing drink since they had sailed from Sevastopol, and an ever-changing scene to entertain her, it would be hard to imagine a more idyllic day. She smiled at her companion, picked up her glass, and held it out.

‘To us.’

‘To us.’

The yacht was much older than Lidiya. It had been laid down by the H C Stulcken shipyard in Hamburg in 1937, when the Third Reich of Adolf Hitler was just four years old. Launched in 1939 as the Hela, the first ‘owner’ had been Admiral Karl Doenitz, head of the Nazi Submarine Service, and later C-in-C of the Kriegsmarine. On the decks where Lidiya was soaking up the sun, Hermann Goering, Joseph Goebbels, Heinrich Himmler and even Adolf Hitler had once trodden.

Eight years after the Hela had been laid down, and just twelve years after the founding of the ‘Thousand Year’ Reich, Hitler died in his underground bunker, and the victorious Red Army seized the Hela. After a spell in the Baltic, Hela was sent to the Black Sea, to serve as the yacht of the C-in-C of the Soviet Navy. Most of the time Hela was at the disposal of the C-in-C of the Black Sea Fleet. Joseph Stalin, Nikita Khrushchev, Kliment Voroshilov, Lavrenti Beria and Lazar Kaganovich had sailed on the white painted yacht, which was now known as the Angara. This was after the mighty river that flows out of Lake Baikal in Siberia.

A shipbuilder would have noticed many similarities with the warships that were built for the German Navy in the 1930s. There was the same graceful clipper bow and flared forecastle as the battle cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, whilst the raked smokestack was similar to contemporary destroyers. Turrets housing a 105mm gun fore and aft provided ‘teeth’, but were primarily for saluting purposes.

Snapping in the breeze was an ensign. The upper quarter of the ‘hoist’, the part of the flag closest to the flagstaff, was white with a narrow blue band at the base. Displayed on the white ground were a red star and a red hammer and sickle. The remaining three quarters of the ensign were red, each of them decorated with a large white star. The flag indicated the presence on board of the Commander-in-Chief of the Black Sea Fleet.

As Lidiya lay absorbing the sun, she decided that life was perfect, and impossible to predict. If anyone had asked what she would be doing on this glorious day a year earlier, lying in a deck chair on the Angara would not have figured in her answers. Working as a junior communications rating or moryachka at the Black Sea Fleet headquarters would have been one answer. A more likely reply would have placed her in one of the brutal penal battalions operated by the Soviet armed forces. As the thought crossed her mind, she shivered despite the heat.

Lidiya Mikhailovna Kornilova had been born in Kazan in August 1961, where her papa, Mikhail Kornilov, was a railroad track worker, whilst her mama, Svetlana, worked in a local shop. In accordance with Russian custom, Lidiya’s middle name, or patronymic was derived from her father’s first name, whilst her family name carried the female ending. She was the youngest of three sisters. When she was old enough to read, she showed a voracious appetite for books, and could soon recite dozens of Russian folk tales by heart.

Unlike her older and more practical sisters, Lidiya was a romantic and impressionable child. Vasilissa the Wise and the Beautiful or the Sneguruchka were as real to her as Vladimir Lenin. At times her parents worried about their little dreamer, as she was so impractical. Concerned that she took the old tales too literally, they gave her books on Russian history to provide a better balance.

Mostly they recited the deeds of Great Lenin. In one book, she read of a Russian admiral called Kornilov who died defending the Rodina, or motherland from foreign invaders in October 1854. Lidiya was fascinated to discover an admiral with the same family name. Although she was not related, she wanted to read more about this heroic man.

An interest in the Admiral who died over a century before she was born prompted an interest in the navy, and whenever there was anything on Soviet TV about the Navy, Lidiya watched avidly. When the forces program, Sluzhu Sovetskomu Soiuzu – I serve the Soviet Union, was on TV, Lidiya was glued to the screen.

Boys were conscripted into the Soviet military at 18, but girls were only conscripted in time of war. A girl could enlist at 19 if she wished, but very few did. A few days after her 19th birthday Lidiya, who had never travelled far enough from Kazan to see the sea, volunteered to serve six years in the Navy. She was sent to Leningrad where she did her six months basic training.

In March 1981, Lidiya was posted to Sevastopol, the place where Admiral Kornilov had served, and as soon as she had some free time, she visited the Malakoff redoubt where he had died. At heart, Lidiya was still the same romantic dreamer that had worried her parents. The Folk tales of her childhood had enthralled her, but Kornilov was real, and to serve in the same navy as her hero, and to visit the spot where he died filled her with pride. She left some flowers and a few tears as well.

Lidiya’s awakening from her dream world came three months after she arrived in Sevastopol. Comrade Brezhnev, the General Secretary of the Soviet Union visited the fleet. Leonid Ilyich was well known for his great interest in women workers, so the women workers were paraded before him. Lidiya, to her displeasure, won this impromptu beauty contest, and was the fleet workers representative at the ensuing luncheon.

It had been explained to all of the girls prior to the ‘beauty contest’ that the winner would have the privilege of entertaining the General Secretary in a very personal way after lunch. She had not joined the navy with the hope of being bedded by the geriatric General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. However, the Captain in charge of the communications girls did not intend to collect a black mark if one of ‘his’ girls misbehaved. Lidiya was told that any anti-party conduct would be severely punished.

The meal was peppered with innumerable toasts. Resentful, but trapped by the system, Lidiya decided that vodka would help numb her feelings. Instead of keeping each measure as small as possible, she drank copiously. By the end of the meal, she was decidedly relaxed. After Lidiya and the General Secretary had been shown into the sitting room of the C-in-C of the Black Sea Fleet, Leonid Ilyich had plied her with more vodka.

Happily Comrade Brezhnev was so drunk that after fondling her boobs, he fell asleep on her shoulder. When the Kremlin aides came to collect the great man, they found him snoring with his head pillowed on Lidiya’s lap. She was told to remain in the Admiral’s sitting room, as he would wish to question her later on.

That evening, when she was dozing but still drunk, the C-in-C had returned and was astonished to find her there. It had been a frustrating day for Admiral Mikhail Petrov. The last thing he wanted was another interview, but as the girl must have been waiting for at least six hours, he decided to spare ten minutes for her. He poured a generous measure of Vodka for himself and gave Kornilova one as well. Because she had been sleepy, she had been very quiet up to that point, but as she woke up, she became increasingly frivolous.

Petrov soon realised that he could get no sensible answers out of her, and decided to send her back to her quarters. Before he could do so, she broke into rhymes about the party and dear Leonid Ilyich.

‘The winter’s passed,

The summer’s here.

For this we thank

Our party dear!’

In her drunken state, jokes followed about the KGB, Stalin and even Great Lenin. Under Article 58 of the Criminal Code, comments that mocked the party were punishable. As Kornilova was drunk through no fault of her own, Petrov did not have the heart to report her. He also knew that if he sent her back to her quarters in the state she was in, she would be arrested within minutes.

He decided to put her on the sofa to sleep it off. With all the alcohol she had consumed, Lidiya had become flirtatious. When he picked her up to carry her to the sofa, she misconstrued his intentions. She threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately. The admiral was a widower, and without feminine company for three years, had responded to her drunken advances. One thing led to another and within minutes, they were in bed together.

In the cold grey light of dawn, Lidiya was ashamed of her drunken antics. It reminded her of a previous episode that she was deeply embarrassed about. Even worse, she recalled some of the anti-Soviet jokes she had babbled, and that the military code was rigid over reporting such conduct. All day she expected to be hauled before Vice Admiral Yevgeniy Novitskiy, Commander of the Fleet Political Directorate. Arrest and sentencing to a penal battalion was certain.

At 8.00 that evening, she received orders to report to Admiral Petrov. She assumed that she would be denounced and hauled off to the cells. Instead the admiral had asked her about the visit by the General Secretary, and then said he would enjoy her company for the evening. Even without an Article 58 to condemn you, any attractive young woman in the armed forces knew that declining an invitation like that was foolish, so Lidiya had resigned herself to her fate. After an hour of desultory conversation, Petrov had said to her.

‘Kornilova; Lidiya, if I may call you that, you were a little indiscrete in what you said last night.’

Knowing what was required, Lidiya had replied that she would do whatever he wished. Petrov’s reply was something she would remember forever.

‘Niet, Lidiya, it is not like that. I have not reported you to the Fleet Political Directorate, and I am not going to. If you are here because you think that, it would be better if you went.’

For several seconds, Lidiya stared at him. With her indiscretions the previous night, Petrov should have handed her to the Political Directorate. Instead, he had protected her at the risk of his own career. Most men, having saved a pretty girl’s neck, would be keen to ‘collect’.

Twice since she had joined the VMF, officers had tried to pressure her into bed, and it was only because she was quick witted, that she had got out of it. Now, with an Article 58, so that she was obliged to jump through any hoop the Admiral put up, he had just made it clear that there were no hoops at all. She murmured.

‘No Comrade Admiral, I am not here because I think that….If you want the truth, I WAS here because I thought that, but I am now here because I want to be here. There is a very big difference.’

Petrov’s motive in mentioning her behaviour had been to suggest that she should be more discrete in future, rather than to force her into his bed. Lidiya, free of the dread than had hung over her all day, threw her arms round Petrov, kissing him passionately, and five minutes later was in the admiral’s bed.

Unlike the previous night, when she was drunk, this time she was there because she wanted to be. At first, it was gratitude for not handing her to Novitskiy, and for not putting up any hoops she had to jump through. After they had made love, and she lay with her head resting on the admiral’s shoulder, she realised that she liked the man who had protected her, yet had demanded nothing in return.

Unlike her so-called friends who had seduced her when she was eighteen, Petrov had treated her as if she mattered. Her ‘friends’ had used her, and then laughed about how she had performed to her face. He had protected her and had then cautioned her against making a similar mistake in the future. A simple kiss to express her gratitude had turned into a passionate embrace and that had led to equally passionate lovemaking. Within a few days, Lidiya’s gratitude had evolved into genuine affection. Soon she enjoyed every moment she could spend with Petrov, and hoped that he wanted to be with her.

The nineteen-year-old blonde was going through what would be called a teenage crush in the West. It was made even more intense by the contrast between the sordid way she had been treated by her equals and the consideration from the admiral. The fifty-one year old admiral had never intended to take the innocent young woman to his bed, but her passion, coupled with his own loneliness since his wife had died, had been irresistible.

At first, feeling guilty at what had taken place, and convinced he should end things because of the difference in their ages, Petrov soon realised that Lidiya would be devastated if he ended their affair right away. Initially he let it go on to give Lidiya time for her passions to cool, so it could wind down without her feeling used or rejected. Before long, he discovered that her presence brought warmth back into his life.

Sometimes in the evening, they would take a walk along the Primorskiy Boulevard, or swim together. Because of his rank, Lidiya realised that she had to be careful not to bring discredit on him in public. Although male conscripts were required to wear uniform on or off duty, female volunteers had the same privilege as extended duty servicemen of being allowed to wear civilian clothes when off duty. When they went out together, Lidiya always wore one of the two civilian outfits she had. This avoided the embarrassment to Admiral Petrov of being seen with a junior moryachka.

Even so, it was only at night, when they walked along, that Lidiya would hold hands with her ‘drook’ or guy. Petrov quickly realised how careful she was not to cause any embarrassment. It made him value her even more highly, and he knew that he did not want things to end any more than she did.

When she had said she would not be able to go out one evening, as both outfits needed washing, he had said he would buy her some more clothes. Her indignant refusal of such a gift, other than as a birthday or a New Year present, had convinced him of her honesty. Most assuredly, Lidiya was not a gold digger chasing an influential husband.

For her twentieth birthday in August 1981, Mikhail Petrov had bought Lidiya the outfit she had refused a few weeks previously. He then gave her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Life then took on a fairy tale quality as the ‘prince’ who had protected her, and whom she now adored, asked her to marry him. Some people seeing the 20 year old girl with the Admiral who was thirty years her senior, would have said that she had turned down a lieutenant or a captain, as an Admiral was a much better catch.

An admiral was a ‘good catch’ for a track worker’s daughter, but that was not the reason. Petrov had saved her when she was in trouble and treated her as if she mattered. Lidiya was in love, and had Petrov been a railway track worker in her native Kazan, or a road sweeper, she would have cared for him as much. If he ever did become a track worker, her place would still be at his side. She soon forgot about the difference in their ages.

In December 1981, six months after they met, Lieutenant Lidiya Mikhailovna Kornilova and her admiral were married. Some women would have given a spiteful explanation that the fifty-one year old Admiral had married the twenty year old girl from Kazan because she was young, sexy and probably good in bed. Lidiya was young, very sexy and a lot of fun in bed, but Mikhail Petrov had seen her lively nature, good humour and sweetness, and quickly sensed her devotion to him.

He had deeply loved his first wife, Katerina, to whom he had been married for over twenty years until her untimely death, and after three years, he was lonely. Then Lidiya had appeared in his sitting room, and he could not bring himself to hand the drunken girl over to the Political officers, whom he despised. Things had just developed from there to the point at which he wanted Lidiya to be his companion, if she would agree.

Admiral Petrov’s night cabin, Motor Yacht Angara 01.30 hrs 27 June

Lidiya was sleeping lightly, her hand clutching Mikhail’s hand. Suddenly her husband gave a tormented moan and squeezed her hand violently. Lidiya awoke with a start, and hear Mikhail scream out.

‘Niet, Niet, Niet, God, Niet.’

Wide-awake now, she put her hand to his brow.

‘Niet, Niet.’ She murmured, ‘Everything is all right. Don’t worry.’

From the horror in his eyes, it was as if all the demons of a childhood nightmare had seized him.

‘Darling, what’s the matter?’

‘Nothing, go back to sleep.’

He got out of bed, threw a robe round his shoulders and walked into the day cabin. Lidiya lay in bed for a couple of minutes, and then slipped her own robe on, and followed him. Mikhail sat with a large glass of vodka in his hand. He was trembling and there was the same look in his eyes. Lidiya sat on the arm of the chair.

‘What’s the matter?’

Admiral Petrov shook his head.

‘Nothing.’

‘Mikhail, people don’t react like that over nothing.’

He shook his head, and snapped back.

‘I told you, nothing.’

Lidiya put her arm round his shoulder.

‘Darling, I’m your wife. If there’s a problem, we share it. Please. If you can’t share your problems with me, then I’m not much use as a wife.’

Petrov clasped her hand.

‘I can’t, it’s not right.’

To her astonishment he broke down and sobbed. Lidiya comforted Mikhail, holding him to her, and telling him how much she loved him. Finally he calmed down. She looked at him.

‘We talk, OK?’

It was not a question but a command and as Lidiya comforted him, the story emerged. Mikhail’s older boy, Yuri had joined the Air Force or VVS, rather than the navy, as he said he wanted to make his way on his own account rather than through his dad’s influence. Mikhail Petrov had been intensely proud of the young man for that attitude. Yuri had qualified as a helicopter pilot, and in January 1980 had been posted to Afghanistan.

A few months later, his Mil-8 helicopter had been brought down by mujahidiin gunfire in ‘bandit’ country. Accounts had filtered out of Afghanistan of the terrible mutilations that were inflicted on any Soviet airman who came down alive in mujahidiin held territory. As Petrov revealed his fears, he sobbed, adding.

‘Please God that he died decently in the crash, not like that.’

Lidiya realised that Mikhail was tormented with the vision of his son falling into enemy hands and of being tortured to death. The only thing that could bring him peace was the knowledge that Yuri had not been tortured. Lidiya knew that was not an assurance she or anyone else could give. When she had been facing prison, Mikhail had protected her, and she felt guilty that she could not save him from the torment he was enduring. Lidiya knew there was nothing she could say that would bring real comfort.

All she could do was to hold him, and wish to god that this ghastly war had never started. Once Mikhail calmed down, she took him to the night cabin, and cradled him in her arms until she felt him drift off to sleep. Only then did Lidiya allow her own feelings to take over. She felt the tears running down her cheeks for her husband and the boy whom she had never met, but who technically would be her stepson although he would have been several years older than she was.

Lidiya and Mikhail both hoped they would have children, but as she thought of Yuri, she prayed that they would have girls, so that she and Mikhail would be spared the agony that he was going through over his son. Although she could not explain it, this shared anguish made her feel closer not just to Mikhail, but to the stepson she had never met. She wondered if he had taken after his papa, and if he had a girlfriend. If so, she would have been lucky until her life was torn apart.

As she shared Mikhail’s torment, her own nightmare was close to hand. Prior to her affair with Mikhail, Lidiya had only had sex on one previous occasion, but that still distressed her. As her husband slept peacefully in her arms, she recalled the horrific morning after she had been seduced. It was following the ‘Last Day of School’ celebrations when eighteen year olds let their hair down and celebrated. Prior to the event, Lidiya had worked hard decorating her last day of term outfit and looked really pretty.

One of the boys, with a reputation of being a wolf, had congratulated her and hung around. Foolishly she felt flattered by his attentions, as he had never even noticed her before. Unlike some girls who had dressed to look sexy, she had aimed to look cute. Later on, Lidiya and a group of youngsters who were in a ‘fast’ set, and had ignored her in the past, had gone round together.

The boy had been considerate all day, looking after her as if she was a princess and fetching food and drinks for her. It was the first time anyone had treated her like that, and the innocent teen was over the moon. Everyone had plenty to drink, but Lidiya did not realise that her glasses were neat vodka and larger than anyone else had. By early evening she was drunk for the first time in her life.

Afterwards Lidiya had nightmares of ribald laughter as she was encouraged to shed her clothing in front of everyone. There were disjointed impressions of being handed round all the guys in the group, but she was so drunk that there was no coherent story. Chaotic though they were, there were so many details etched in her mind that she was afraid they were true, and not just a product of her fears.

That she had lost her clothing was certain, as she had woken up naked just after dawn the following morning. That she had also lost her virginity was all too obvious, so the other memories were probably true as well. She was lying on waste ground about two kilometres from the block of flats where her parents lived. Looking round, she realised to her horror that most of her clothing was missing. She hurriedly dressed in such clothing as she could find and faced the humiliation of walking home partially clad.

Given what day it was, her outfit, which comprised her panties and the last day of school sash which had to serve as a makeshift bra, revealed that she had been out all night, and what had happened to her. Walking across the courtyard to the entrance to her parent’s flat in full view of their neighbours was excruciating.

She would have liked to slip into the family flat unheralded, but as her keys were missing she had to ring the bell. If her sister had opened the door, she might have ‘got away with it’, but it was her papa who did so. The interview with her parents, dressed as she was, had been even worse. She knew she had been stupid, but being called a slut had hurt.

For several weeks she was haunted by the fear of an unwanted pregnancy but thankfully she was spared that shame. The boy never showed any interest in her again, but the crowd she had been with joked how easy she had been, and had most of her clothing to prove it. Whilst she had planned to join the VMF in any case, the knowing grins of her former classmates, girls as well as boys, when she met them, encouraged her to make a new start in life.

When a navy lieutenant had propositioned her during her training and when Captain Viktorov had done the same, she had hurriedly invented a KGB boyfriend to keep out of their clutches. It had been unpleasant when the two officers had made a play for her, but ‘winning’ the beauty contest for the General Secretary disgusted her. She decided that the only way she could cope was if she was drunk as with her previous liaison.

Lidiya was close to tears until she had downed sufficient vodka to numb her senses. As it happened the General Secretary had been so inebriated that nothing had happened. Later on, because she was drunk, she had ended up in the Admiral’s bed. The following day she realised that her indiscretions would land her in a penal battalion, but found that Petrov had protected her. Within a few days, Lidiya was head over heels in love.

The admiral, lonely after his wife’s death, longed for company and appreciated her innocence and romantic nature. To Lidiya, the times they were in bed were special after her heartless introduction to sex. When they were together holding hands, or just talking quietly, was even more precious,