The operation began before the first trains of the Second Guards Corps had even approached Kyiv.
Skoropadskyi had no intention of waiting for the enemy to reach the capital.
The closer the corps moved toward Kyiv, the greater the risks became.
For that reason, the decision was made to act in advance.
Over the course of several days, three Ukrainian cavalry divisions began a covert redeployment toward key railway junctions.
To an outside observer, it appeared to be nothing more than routine troop movements.
After the Revolution, the army was constantly on the move anyway.
Regiments were withdrawn from positions.
Military trains appeared and disappeared.
Thousands of people traveled across the rail network every day.
Against that backdrop, the actions of the Ukrainian headquarters attracted little attention.
Inside one of the staff railcars, Oleksandr Sliwinski once again leaned over a map.
Nearby stood Pavlo Skoropadskyi, Marko Bezruchko, and Petro Bolbochan.
The latest intelligence reports lay spread across the table.
Bezruchko broke the silence first.
—"The movement of two additional trains has been confirmed. One passed through the northern junction, while the second was delayed for nearly four hours."
Sliwinski nodded.
—"The delay works in our favor. The more stretched they become, the easier it will be to isolate individual groups."
Bolbochan studied the railway diagram carefully.
—"My division will reach the station at least twelve hours before they do."
Skoropadskyi looked at the colonel.
—"Are you certain?"
—"Provided there are no surprises."
A faint smile appeared on Skoropadskyi's face.
—"There are always surprises in our line of work."
Bolbochan answered with a slight smile of his own.
—"Then we'll deal with them when they appear."
The discussion continued for nearly another hour.
They reviewed movement schedules.
The tasks assigned to each cavalry division.
Alternative plans.
Several times Sliwinski returned to the same concern.
—"The most important thing is to avoid a premature confrontation. If the Bolsheviks understand our intentions too early, they will try to gather the corps into a single force."
Everyone agreed.
The strength of the Second Guards Corps did not lie in discipline.
Nor in the quality of its command.
It lay in numbers.
If tens of thousands of armed soldiers were concentrated in one place, the situation could become far more dangerous.
That was why the entire operation was built around speed.
Meanwhile, far to the northeast, train after train of the corps continued moving toward Kyiv.
In most of the railcars, no one suspected what was happening.
The soldiers played cards.
Smoked.
Argued about politics.
Exchanged rumors.
Many still did not understand the ultimate purpose of the march.
Inside one railcar, several soldiers sat around a small stove.
—"They say we'll be in Kyiv soon."
—"And why are we going there?"
—"No idea."
—"I heard we're supposed to help the workers."
—"What workers?"
—"How should I know?"
Before long, the conversation drifted toward food and home.
Those subjects interested most of them far more than politics.
Meanwhile, at the former corps headquarters, Bosch was receiving an increasing number of reports.
So far, none of them seemed particularly alarming.
A few delays.
Overloaded stations.
Communication problems.
Such things happened constantly.
Yet later that evening a new report landed on her desk.
She read it carefully.
Then read it again.
One of her aides noticed the change in her expression.
—"Something wrong?"
—"I'm not sure yet."
—"Problems?"
Bosch placed the report on the table.
—"Too many coincidences."
The aide frowned.
—"What kind of coincidences?"
—"Delays, lost telegrams, communication failures. Individually, they mean nothing, but taken together, I don't like them."
Even so, she still saw no immediate threat.
The railways throughout the former empire were overloaded.
Communications had been unreliable for months.
There was no evidence of outside interference.
The following day, the first Ukrainian cavalry units began taking up their assigned positions.
Quietly.
Without gunfire.
Without public announcements.
Station commanders received orders from Ukrainian headquarters.
Telegraph operators came under guard.
Mounted patrols appeared along several sections of railway.
To most civilians, everything looked perfectly ordinary.
Only a handful understood that a ring was slowly closing around the Second Guards Corps.
Toward evening, Bezruchko received another intelligence summary.
After reading several pages, he immediately headed toward Sliwinski.
—"There have been developments."
The chief of staff looked up.
—"What kind?"
—"The Bolsheviks are starting to notice problems."
Sliwinski set down his pencil.
—"How serious?"
—"For now, only questions. They still don't have answers."
A few minutes later, the information was already on Skoropadskyi's desk.
He studied the report carefully.
Then looked at the map.
Several marked stations were already under Ukrainian control.
Several more would be secured within the next few hours.
The plan was working.
But the most difficult stage of the operation still lay ahead.
They now had to cut off the movement of the corps in such a way that the enemy would realize what was happening only when it was too late.
The next two days proved decisive.
While the trains of the Second Guards Corps continued moving, the Ukrainian cavalry methodically occupied more and more points across the railway network.
No major clashes occurred.
That was exactly what Sliwinski wanted.
Any exchange of fire could raise the alarm too early.
Any premature battle could force the Bolsheviks to alter their routes.
For that reason, the operation was conducted with extreme caution.
Late one evening, another liaison officer arrived at the operational headquarters.
He quickly handed a sealed packet to Bezruchko.
Bezruchko opened it and began reading.
A few seconds later, a faint smile appeared on his face.
—"Good news."
Sliwinski raised his head from the map.
—"Let's hear it."
—"The Third Cavalry Division secured the junction without a single shot being fired."
—"The station?"
—"The station and the telegraph office."
Skoropadskyi looked closely at the report.
—"Local authorities?"
—"They offered no resistance."
—"Excellent."
Another mark appeared on the map.
The ring was gradually tightening.
Meanwhile, aboard one of the corps' trains, the mood was beginning to change.
First, contact with a neighboring unit was lost.
Then an expected telegram never arrived.
After that, the train unexpectedly sat at a small station for nearly five hours.
The soldiers began to grow uneasy.
One of the committee members repeatedly tried to contact corps headquarters.
Without success.
By midday the following day, rumors were spreading through the entire train.
—"They say there's an accident ahead."
—"No, the railway's been taken by the Ukrainians."
—"What Ukrainians?"
—"I don't know."
—"Then why are you repeating it?"
Conversations like that became increasingly common.
Yet no one possessed reliable information.
Even the officers commanding the trains were receiving contradictory reports.
Back at the former corps headquarters, the atmosphere was growing more tense as well.
New reports continued arriving on Bosch's desk.
Some telegrams never reached their destinations.
Several units had stopped responding altogether.
For the first time, she felt that something more than ordinary railway chaos was taking place.
Another emergency meeting lasted nearly until midnight.
One committee member threw several reports onto the table in frustration.
—"We've already lost contact with four groups of trains."
Another immediately objected.
—"Communications will be restored."
—"And if they aren't?"
—"Then we'll send couriers."
Bosch remained silent.
She listened carefully to the argument.
Finally she raised her head.
—"How many units are already on the move?"
Several people began checking documents.
The answer turned out to be vague.
That was what troubled her most.
The corps was steadily losing its cohesion.
And with it, its ability to function.
One of those present attempted to reassure the others.
—"Even if there are complications, we still have tens of thousands of soldiers."
Bosch slowly turned toward him.
—"Tens of thousands of soldiers mean nothing if they are scattered across hundreds of kilometers of railway."
Silence followed.
Because that was precisely what many of them feared.
The following day, those fears began to prove justified.
Ukrainian cavalry units occupied several more stations.
Now individual groups of the corps were effectively cut off from one another.
In some places trains were stopped under the pretext of document inspections.
In others, schedules were altered.
Elsewhere, entire trains were quietly redirected onto secondary tracks.
Everything appeared legal.
Calm.
Routine.
Yet the result became increasingly obvious.
The corps was ceasing to function as a unified force.
At Skoropadskyi's operational headquarters, the atmosphere remained professional.
Bezruchko had just finished another report.
Sliwinski was studying the map.
Bolbochan stood by a window, waiting for the latest information from his division.
At last Skoropadskyi broke the silence.
—"When will they understand?"
Sliwinski stared at the map for a moment.
—"They already do."
—"And?"
—"They still don't understand the scale of it."
Bezruchko nodded.
—"They see individual problems, but they still don't see the entire picture."
Skoropadskyi shifted his gaze toward the railway map.
Almost every key point was now marked with Ukrainian flags.
Only a few remained outside their control.
—"Then we don't have much time left."
—"No."
Sliwinski calmly set down his pencil.
—"Within twenty-four hours, it will be too late for them to change anything."
At that moment a courier entered the headquarters.
He was breathing heavily after a long ride.
—"Urgent report."
Bezruchko quickly took the document.
His eyes scanned several lines.
Then he looked up.
—"One of the committees is demanding explanations from corps headquarters. They believe someone is deliberately obstructing movement."
A faint grin appeared on Bolbochan's face.
—"They're finally starting to think."
But Skoropadskyi did not smile.
He continued studying the map.
Because he understood that the most dangerous stage of the operation was beginning right now.
The enemy could already sense the threat.
Yet it still retained the ability to resist.
Within the next few hours, it would be decided whether the operation would end with almost no bloodshed—or whether the Ukrainian cavalry would ultimately be forced to use force.