Chapter 8: The October Revolution - The Bolsheviks Leave Home
The revolution was set for October 25th, 1917.
That day, representatives from Soviets across Russia were to gather at the Smolny Institute in Petrograd for the All-Russian Congress of Soviets.
Trotsky, spittle flying as he spoke, explained to me that this was the perfect day to launch the revolution.
The plan of the Petrograd Military Revolutionary Committee was to overthrow the Provisional Government as quickly as possible and then proclaim themselves as the legitimate government of All-Russia.
The logic was that it would be more politically expedient to have representatives from Soviets across the country come and recognize them rather than the Petrograd Soviet alone declaring itself the legitimate government.
In the end, all decisions come down to legitimacy.
Meanwhile, once the decision to convene the All-Russian Congress of Soviets was made, the shaky Provisional Government suddenly announced elections and launched a campaign to win over voters.
The time for armed revolution was approaching, and everyone in Petrograd knew it.
In the less than a week remaining before the revolution, a fierce propaganda battle raged. In the 21st century, public opinion is shaped by television news and social media, but in this era, everything hinged on newspapers.
Papers with names like Novaya Zhizn, Rabochii Put, and Luch flooded the streets of Petrograd. It was a mystery how the printing presses kept turning in such dire times, when even food rations were scarce due to the war.
As the situation grew increasingly dramatic, Petrograd resembled an ancient Greek agora, a bustling marketplace of ideas.
The citizens of Petrograd would gather in threes to debate the current political situation. To me, who had lived in an age of political apathy, this was a truly refreshing sight.
Posters plastered the streets, and it wasn't uncommon to see people marching and singing military songs. It was truly a week like the calm before the storm.
My opportunities to speak with Trotsky were dwindling. He would disappear every night to meet with someone, leaving me feeling like I spent more time with Stalin than with Trotsky himself.
Stalin would ask me tedious questions about my relationship with Trotsky and my opinions on various matters. When I asked him why he was so persistent, he would dismissively reply that, as fellow members of the Military Revolutionary Center, he was simply asking for necessary information.
How did that guy, who's even more unlikable than Trotsky, become General Secretary? I was dying to know. His Georgian accent only made him more grating.
Instead, I became close to Yakov Sverdlov, another member of the Military Revolutionary Center. I didn't know who he was, but from what I gathered, he seemed to be siding with Lenin, who was still in exile in Finland. Since we both found ourselves marginalized by Trotsky, we quickly bonded as kindred spirits.
However, I failed to establish any real rapport with the other members of the Military Revolutionary Center. In this uneasy state, we approached the final days before the Revolution.
October 22, 1917. I was appointed as the Head of the Military Revolutionary Center.
To be honest, I was greatly surprised. I had expected Sverdlov to be appointed. He was highly trusted by other Bolshevik Party members and, above all, was one of Lenin's closest associates.
However, after hearing the full story from Trotsky, I learned that Sverdlov had actually recommended me. His opinion was that the Head of the Military Revolutionary Center should be someone who fervently supported the armed revolution. In exchange, Sverdlov was appointed as Deputy Head.
"Once the armed revolution begins, I've marked on the map where the Military Revolutionary Committee will strike first. The Mariinsky Palace, where the Provisional Council is located; the Petrograd City Council; and the Winter Palace, where the Provisional Government's administrative offices are situated..."
Sverdlov was an exceptionally capable man. Those chosen by Lenin were always different. He remembered even the minutest details I overlooked, devised intricate and meticulous plans, and accurately calculated the precise number of troops needed for each location.
I wondered if he was truly mad—of course, in the most positive sense.
"...In other words, the success of the Revolution hinges on our ability to seize the Winter Palace. To this end, we must secure the support of the Baltic Fleet. The psychological impact of warship bombardment is undeniable. I've brought a list of vessels under Soviet control within the Baltic Fleet to determine which would be most suitable..."
I nodded. No matter who I spoke to, the conclusion was always the same: the capture of the Winter Palace. Only then could the Bolsheviks seize whatever minimal authority the Provisional Government still held. Failure here meant failure of the Revolution itself.
"But no matter how we try, aren't we still just part of the Military Revolutionary Center? We can't act without orders from the Military Revolutionary Committee, and there's no guarantee I'll be sent to the Winter Palace..."
"Of course, I understand your concerns, Comrade Siyoung. But shouldn't we do our utmost with what we can accomplish? And who knows if you'll truly attack the Winter Palace? Our duty is to prepare so that if that day ever comes, we can carry out the assault decisively. We must ensure the Revolution doesn't fail because of us."
Sverdlov's solemn words left me speechless. To be precise, I couldn't argue because every word he said was undeniably true.
In any case, after that, I listened intently to Sverdlov's lectures without a word of complaint, absorbing every detail.
But even then, I couldn't shake the lingering doubt about whether any of this would prove useful.
October 24th, 1917. Dawn broke over Petrograd.
A gruff hand shook me awake, rudely interrupting my sweet morning slumber. Before I could even grumble, Jack Reed thrust a newspaper extra into my hands.
It contained arrest orders for key figures of the Petrograd Soviet and the Military Revolutionary Committee, along with an order to shut down pro-revolution newspapers.
I quickly flipped to the back, scanning the list of wanted individuals. Relief washed over me when I saw my name wasn't there yet. But there was also a hint of disappointment.
It meant I wasn't important enough yet.
"Comrade Siyeong, head to Smolny immediately. I'll go to the Provisional Council. I'll let you know if anything urgent comes up. Go to Smolny now—it's dangerous to stay here."
Following Jack Reed's instructions, I arrived at Smolny and was surprised by how quiet the building was, quieter than I'd expected. But Smolny was the eye of the storm.
Everyone moved with determined expressions, working in orderly fashion. While the rest of Petrograd was in chaos, Smolny was busy preparing for the revolution.
"Comrade Siyeong! We were wondering where you'd gone. You need to attend the joint meeting of the Military Revolutionary Committee and the Military Revolutionary Center immediately. Comrade Sverdlov has been looking for you urgently."
I was staring blankly at soldiers marching beyond the window, their red banners fluttering, when Trotsky's sharp voice pierced my thoughts.
The meeting proceeded in a solemn atmosphere.
Trotsky informed us of our primary attack targets and gave us detailed instructions on where each group would strike and how to carry out the attacks.
He ordered us not to harm civilians, to minimize looting, to ensure soldiers received sufficient rest, and so on.
After the orders to attack different locations were issued, everyone left Smolny to recruit officers and soldiers. Only Sverdlov, Siyeong, and Trotsky remained in the room. There were no more attack locations left... except one.
Trotsky spoke in a heavy voice. Somehow, I felt I could predict exactly what he was about to say with unprecedented accuracy.
"Comrade Siyeong, judging by your passion for the Revolution..."
No, no, no.
"The Military Revolutionary Committee wishes to give you, as the Head of the Military Revolutionary Center, your final order."
Please, no.
"You are to storm the Winter Palace."
Ah.
I glared at Sverdlov with resentful eyes. Seeing him deliberately avoid my gaze, I was certain: This bastard is behind this.
"Comrade Siyoung, it was Comrade Sverdlov who recommended you, but I wouldn't have entrusted you with this critical mission to storm the Winter Palace if I didn't have unwavering faith in you. In other words, we trust you completely."
"Comrade Trotsky, I understand. I understand."
I took a deep breath. It took tremendous courage to defy Trotsky.
"I have no military background or knowledge whatsoever. According to Comrade Sverdlov, the assault on the Winter Palace requires a joint operation between the army and the Baltic Fleet more than anything else. How can you entrust such a critical mission to someone like me, who is completely inexperienced in military matters?"
Sverdlov and Trotsky exchanged glances. After a moment, Trotsky cleared his throat and spoke.
"Well... um... Comrade Siyoung. It's a bit awkward to say, but... we don't have any military experience either."
What? What did he say? But Trotsky was clearly a commander during the Red-White Civil War!
"And most of the comrades who just left also lack military experience. Do you see why we chose you now? You're the one on the Military Revolutionary Committee who most wholeheartedly supports armed revolution."
Me? Really? I mean, I'm part of the *Military Revolutionary Committee*! I was appalled.
How on earth did the October Revolution succeed?
"So, that's what we're entrusting you with. Naturally, other professional soldiers will also be mobilized for the Winter Palace assault. Comrade Sverdlov is already handling that. Comrade Siyeong, when we call you, just throw caution to the wind and charge straight for the Winter Palace."
Easy for them to say. They're basically asking me to play the role of a political officer. Oh right, Trotsky was a political officer.
But this guy later became Minister of War too. He's just a prodigy.
"...Well, for now, I understand. When is the assault scheduled?"
"First, the other positions must fall. We can't pressure the Winter Palace unless fortifications like the Peter and Paul Fortress and Kronstadt are captured. Comrade Sverdlov has already explained this, so I'll skip the details."
Nodding, I suddenly felt something was amiss and looked up.
*What? How does Trotsky know that Sverdlov told me all this?*
A sudden, overwhelming sense of unease washed over me. I'd only met Sverdlov a little over a week ago.
*Why this abruptness...?*
As my confusion deepened, Trotsky sighed, as if impatient, and stepped forward.
"Well, I suppose it's time to tell you the truth, Comrade Siyoung. To be honest, it wasn't my decision to entrust the assault on the Winter Palace to you."
"Then who on earth entrusted such a critical mission to me?!"
"Why, who else but me?" The figure who had been hiding in the shadows of the conference hall suddenly emerged and spoke. I tried to recognize his face, but I couldn't. He wore a bowler hat, horn-rimmed glasses, and a comical fake beard.
Just as I was wondering who he was, he stripped off everything covering his face.
My breath caught in my throat. Standing before me was someone all too familiar.
I'd never seen him in person, but I'd seen his picture and posters countless times.
He was the symbol and pride of the Soviet Union, and the archenemy of the capitalist world.
Vladimir Lenin stood before me.