Chapter 10: The October Revolution - The True Government of the People
A stormy day had passed, and the sun rose over Petrograd the next morning—October 26th.
After gathering the soldiers and driving out the remaining ministers and Junkers, I collapsed into the first bed I could find and fell asleep instantly.
Yesterday had been a whirlwind of events.
The scratches on the window of the room where I'd slept were proof of the fierce battle that had raged. The bombardment by cruisers. The fire of field guns. The assault on the Winter Palace. And finally, my brief speech within its walls.
It all felt like it had happened in a distant past.
Rubbing my eyes, I left the room. Two guards were stationed outside. I didn't remember ordering anyone to stand watch last night. Just as I was wondering what was going on, one of them greeted me.
"Comrade Lee, did you sleep well last night? Fortunately, there were no assassination attempts against you!"
"Assassination attempts? Who even knows I'm here?"
Another soldier waved his hand dismissively and spoke up.
"Come now, Comrade, what are you saying? The whole of Petrograd is buzzing with rumors. It's said that an Asian, acting as Comrade Trotsky's agent, led the successful assault on the Winter Palace!"
"We only took control of this place yesterday, didn't we? Rumors spread like wildfire."
"Anyway, assassination attempts against you could happen at any time. Our soldiers are voluntarily standing guard, so don't worry about it. They're proud to serve Comrade Siyeong Lee, the hero of the Winter Palace!"
*When the military says "voluntary," it usually means "forced" 99.9% of the time. But since I never actually ordered them to stand guard, I guess I can't really complain.*
During my military service, I used to resent those officers, but now that I'm in their position, I find it surprisingly convenient.
"Well, I'm off. You can relax now. No more guard duty for you. After all, this building belongs to us now. What have we got to fear?"
"Understood, Comrade! Safe travels!"
They really got me this time. But then again, if a Political Officer stood before me, I'd probably react the same way.
I had planned to take a morning walk around the Winter Palace and head to Smolny, but I couldn't manage it.
In Petrograd, a city that would never become truly multicultural even in a century, my Asian face stood out like a sore thumb. Normally, people would glance my way and move on, but now they recognized me and approached.
"Excuse me, are you... the 'Oriental of Smolny'?"
"Uh... I've been at Smolny for quite some time..."
"That's right! The hero of the Winter Palace assault is here! Comrade Trotsky's representative!"
"Comrade! Is it true you wiped out the Winter Palace in one fell swoop using mysterious Eastern tactics?"
"I want to get closer to Comrade Trotsky too! How did you become his trusted aide in just a month?"
"Comrade! Did you really come all the way from Japan to support our revolution? Is Japan also supporting our cause?"
"Excuse me, one question at a time..."
They say a rumor can spread a thousand miles without legs, and it turns out there's truth to that.
I'd barely left the Winter Palace when I was swarmed by a sea of people. The guard's earlier words—that my name had spread throughout the city—rang true as I was engulfed by the crowd.
After barely managing to escape the crowd, I went to Smolny, only to be greeted by an unprecedented throng of well-wishers. There was Trotsky and Lenin, of course, as well as Zinoviev and Kamenev, who had vehemently opposed the armed revolution to the end but had recently returned to the Soviet through backdoor maneuvers.
It felt like I shook hands with everyone at Smolny.
Returning to my original post at the Foreign Affairs Committee, I felt as if I had just woken from a dream, yet I longed to lie down again. Yet a part of me swelled with pride.
I had finally accomplished something.
Until now, I had merely stood by Trotsky's side, gaping like a fish. But yesterday and today, I had fulfilled a duty that would forever be etched into my career.
With that, I closed my eyes at my desk. The cold winter wind whipped around my head.
***
But the revolution was far from over. Though the Provisional Government had fallen, the factions opposing the Bolsheviks clung stubbornly to life.
Petrograd had split in two.
On one side stood the Petrograd Soviet, dominated by the Bolsheviks; on the other, the "Committee for the Salvation of the Fatherland and the Revolution," led by counter-revolutionaries. The parties caught between them walked a tightrope, wavering between the Soviet and the Committee.
"And I can proudly declare here and now!" The voice rang out, resonant with conviction. "With the Mariinsky Palace and the Winter Palace now in our hands, the All-Russian Provisional Government no longer exists on Russian soil! The only legitimate government representing Russia is the 'Russian Soviet Republic,' led by the Petrograd Soviet!"
On October 26th at 8:40 PM, the Second All-Russian Congress of Soviets reconvened.
Lenin declared the famous principle of "no annexations, no indemnities." This meant that after what would later be called World War I, the countries involved would return to their pre-war status quo.
Of course, I scoffed at this. Having known what kind of peace treaty the confident Bolsheviks who proclaimed this principle would later sign, I couldn't help but find it laughable.
Following this, Lenin and Trotsky issued the "Land Declaration," ordering that all land be nationalized and transferred to the Soviets. The Petrograd Soviet responded with a fervent, almost frenzied, approval, bordering on madness.
As a result, the moderate factions, including the Mensheviks, who had maintained neutrality up until then, began to support the Petrograd Soviet one by one.
It started with the declaration of support from an unnamed minor party. Soon, major parties like the Mensheviks and the Socialist Revolutionary Party also began to back the Soviet.
"The world revolution is approaching, and we stand at its vanguard! A new era of brotherhood will dawn, where the peoples of all nations unite as one great family! Workers of the world, unite!"
Lev Kamenev soon called for a vote on the proclamation.
Kamenev adopted a very simple voting method. Those who supported the Declaration were asked to raise their name tags.
Soon, the Congress hall was filled with name tags held aloft by raised hands.
The Declaration passed unanimously.
For some reason, people suddenly began murmuring "The Internationale." The melody swelled smoothly into a chorus.
Lenin, Trotsky, Jack Reed, Kamenev, Zinoviev, the Socialist Revolutionary Party, the Mensheviks, the Social Democratic Party, and I—all of us. We each added our voices to the chorus, joining the song that had started with an unnamed worker.
Smolny, the heart of the October Revolution and the cradle of Soviet Russia, had become one in "The Internationale."
***
After the Bolsheviks' grand autumn revival, dubbed the "All-Russian Soviet Congress," had settled down somewhat, the real event began.
The proclamation of the government's composition—deciding who would receive the coveted positions—was about to be announced.
Of course, nominally, this was a temporary committee to govern until the Constituent Assembly could be convened. But everyone present knew that those joining the committee at this juncture were the true Bolsheviks.
After a moment to steady his breathing, Kamenev began reading the list of committee members—the matter they had all been eagerly awaiting.
"As Chairman, Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov—Vladimir Lenin!"
A thunderous applause erupted. When Lenin's name was called, he stood up and waved to the audience chanting his name.
Trotsky and I watched him with a mixture of pride and envy.
"For Foreign Affairs, Lev Davidovich Bronstein, that is, Lev Trotsky!"
When Trotsky's name was announced, the applause was no less fervent than for Lenin. Trotsky raised his fists to the sky, then awkwardly scratched his head after sitting down.
More committee members were appointed, but my name was never called. However, Trotsky's meaningful smile gave me a glimmer of hope.
"The railway commissioners will be appointed once the National Railway Union's uncooperative stance ends. And, uh..."
Kamenev paused, scrutinizing the list, then turned around with an incredulous expression to check the reactions of Lenin and Trotsky.
Both waved their hands dismissively, signaling their approval, and Kamenev resumed with a distinctly displeased look.
"Finally, the Commission on Nationalities! For Europe and the Caucasus, Iosif Bessarionovich Jughashvili—also known as Joseph Stalin! And for Asia and the Far East, Siyeong Lee!"
What?
From the far left, a mustachioed man who looked utterly unfit for the position stood up. I also rose, leaning on Trotsky's arm for support.
Looking bewildered, I shook my head, and he approached me first, extending his hand. His heavy, brutish grip made my right hand feel less like it was shaking hands and more like it was being shaken.
Stalin's intimidating demeanor never inspired any fondness, no matter how I looked at him.
"Welcome, partner," his authoritative voice boomed in my ears. "Let us work together to liberate the oppressed nations."
I nodded solemnly.
"Let's... let's do that. I look forward to working with you."
It seemed my decision to align myself with Trotsky had been a mistake.
No, it was a *massive* mistake.
The revolution in Petrograd quickly began to spread throughout Russia.
By October 25th, revolutions had succeeded in Minsk and Novgorod. On the 26th, they spread to Ufa, Kazan, and Yekaterinburg, and on the 27th, to Saratov and Samara.
The flame of revolution ignited in Petrograd had become a massive forest fire burning across Russia, plunging Europe into terror.
But the revolution was far from over.
This was only the beginning.
It was necessary to prevent a "counter-revolution" from within and resist threats from without, all while preserving the spirit of the October Revolution and organizing the system to ensure the Soviet Union would never become a "corrupt workers' state."
The era of idealistic revolutionaries was over. Now was the time for organizers with passionate hearts and cool heads. In other words, my time had come.
"Comrade Siyeong, as always, thank you for your hard work. Please review these documents to be sent to the Commission on Nationalities in Vladivostok."
"Comrade Stalin, I was already ordered by Comrade Trotsky to research policies to address the population issues of Mongolians in Buryatia, but..."
"Then do you know of any committee members more knowledgeable about Far East issues than you? If so, please introduce them."
"...I'll just handle it myself..."
It meant that the era of me being pushed around was over.
Only now did I understand why Trotsky had assigned me paperwork. The revolution could never be completed by rhetoric alone.
Behind the glorious facade of the Revolution lay the blood, sweat, and labor of the people who sacrificed and toiled for its cause.
Meanwhile, the Petrograd Soviet was desperately short of manpower—severely so. Finding someone knowledgeable about Far Eastern affairs was like searching for Mr. Kim Sang-deok in Alaska.
In the end, I could only delegate minor tasks like grammar checks. All the substantive work fell squarely on my shoulders.
Had I passed the civil service exam, I would have been doing this kind of work in reality anyway. But now that the Revolution had settled down somewhat, I found myself loath to do it.
While committee members like us were busy with our tasks, Lenin and Trotsky weren't idling either. In fact, they were arguably even busier than us.
The reason? The 1917 Russian general election—the first free election in Russian history—was rapidly approaching.