Episode 23: The Russian Civil War - The Moth to Power's Flame
November 1918. Two decisive pieces of news reached the Central Committee in Moscow.
The first was that the German Army, gradually pushed back since the US Army's entry into the war, had launched their final offensive to capture Paris. Leaving only the minimum number of troops necessary to maintain the front, they mobilized over 250 divisions. The final push to end this loathsome war, the *Kaiserschlacht* (Emperor's Battle), had begun.
I was still serving as People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs when I heard this news, munching on popcorn. As Trotsky had said, when two—no, three—imperialist powers clash, we profit regardless of who wins.
Meanwhile, unlike the German Empire, which was holding its own on the Western Front, the Austro-Hungarian Army was collapsing completely on the Italian Front.
Out of the 1.8 million Austrians stationed there, 500,000 were rendered combat ineffective. The Italian Army, gnashing its teeth, boasted about advancing on Vienna.
At the same time, Britain, allied with the Greek Army, launched an offensive in the Balkan Peninsula. The Austrian and Bulgarian forces were once again brutally crushed.
The Ottoman Empire met a similar fate. After being defeated by British forces in Syria and Lebanon, the Ottoman Army retreated to the Turkish mainland.
What kind of monsters were these German soldiers who had defeated the British Army?
"What kind of monsters? Just beasts driven mad by Prussian militarism—nothing more, nothing less."
"Still, I'm a bit envious of their war-fighting prowess."
"Look on the bright side, Comrade Siyoung. If the Russian Army had fought the war well, the Revolution wouldn't have happened."
In any case, the defeat of the Allied Powers in the Great War seemed inevitable.
Yet the German Army still believed that if they could capture Paris, they could somehow reverse this defeat.
And this misguided optimism was, of course, immensely helpful to us.
Originally, Germany was supposed to surrender in November 1918. But if we kept propping them up, the likelihood of revolution would only increase.
Yet the chain of revolutions that I'd expected to occur in November 1918 in the original timeline had yet to materialize.
As long as Germany maintained the initiative on the Western Front, was there still hope?
The Ottoman Empire had withdrawn from the war after losing Syria, but they remained the only nation to have done so.
The remaining Allied Powers clung to this war by a thread, their sole hope being that Germany would capture Paris.
The other piece of news was that a coup d'état had occurred in Ufa, a city known for its reactionary politics.
After the October Revolution, the reactionaries who had fled to Siberia formed a motley crew of forces, ranging from left-wing Mensheviks to the most extreme Tsarists.
At first, they seemed to be engaged in petty power struggles among themselves. As expected, these remnants of a twice-defeated and twice-exiled regime were beyond redemption.
However, as the Red Army secured Southern Russia and advanced into Siberia, systematically capturing cities, the soldiers dying on the front lines grew increasingly resentful of the politicians who sat safely behind desks, pontificating about strategy.
It's understandable.
In the end, Admiral Alexander Kolchak took the blame and made the "decisive move to save the nation."
Among the commanders who supported the coup, there were a few we had no choice but to spare, like Anton Denikin, whose name I vaguely remember.
Ah, and the PTSD is acting up again.
"Anyway, while the establishment of a military government is generally seen as unfavorable, it might actually turn out to be a blessing in disguise."
"You mean it's bad because the Rebel Army will become stronger?"
"Exactly. But history has shown us what happens when soldiers run the country. They'll inevitably lose the support of the common people."
According to our intelligence network in Siberia, there's already an unsettling, yet for us, a most favorable, political climate forming in the region.
Both urban workers and farmers were dissatisfied with the military government's war policies.
When I consider that even we are losing the people's support due to War Communism, I can't help but wonder if the ordinary Russian people will end up in hell no matter who wins.
"Well, even if they win, their future is bleak. But if we win, Russia's future will be bright. That much is guaranteed. But enough with the briefing. Let's get back to work."
"Comrade Trotsky, this isn't the time for such talk. With the British army sitting wide-eyed in Arkhangelsk, what good does it do to spout idealistic nonsense?"
"Comrade Stalin, you'll say anything these days, won't you?"
Ah, right.
If Stalin wins, hell will come for me too.
***
After Lenin was shot and hospitalized, I sensed that other Soviet politicians were thinking the same thing as me:
What if Lenin dies here? Who will be the next leader?
I knew Lenin had five years left to live, but they were already acting as if he were already dead.
The atmosphere around me also began to feel uneasy.
Trotsky remained his usual blunt self, but Stalin and others from his faction seemed to be trying to get closer to me.
"Comrade Siyeong Li, you've worked hard today. Here's a small gift from me..."
"I'm sorry, but as the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs, I cannot accept such a gift."
"Then why don't we have a meal together?"
"I'm quite busy. I'll just grab something at the Kremlin cafeteria."
With that, he licked his lips and turned his attention to other potential prey.
The so-called power struggle within the party was all talk and little substance.
After all, what was so significant about sharing meals, saunas, and other social activities? It was all just part of the political game.
The only thing that truly baffled me was how those who had recently been pointing at me as a "lackey" colluding with the West suddenly fawned over me overnight. It left me wondering what tune everyone was dancing to.
As someone who had grown weary of club president duties and avoided such things, I honestly wanted to take a step back from Moscow's political scene.
But considering my goals, that simply wasn't possible.
If I completely ignored the power struggle after Lenin's death, it would likely unfold as it did in actual history, with Stalin's victory being a foregone conclusion.
In the end, whether I liked it or not, I had to engage in politics.
But I really didn't want to.
So I chose the Stalin meta.
Contrary to his later nickname, the "Iron Marshal," Stalin maintained quite good relationships with others before seizing power.
This allowed anti-Trotsky factions to believe they could trust Stalin, and the rest, as they say, is history.
If even Stalin could pull it off, there's no reason I can't.
From the start, my position was perfectly suited for remaining neutral.
Both Trotsky and Stalin maintain a proper relationship with me, and neither can afford to discard me. The ideal scenario is to skillfully navigate between the two, and when the decisive moment comes, support Trotsky to drive out Stalin.
Therefore, instead of being stubbornly inflexible, I shifted my approach to actively maintaining good relations with everyone, leveraging the social skills I had supposedly acquired while preparing for employment.
"Ah, Chairman Zinoviev! Thank you for coming all this way despite your busy schedule."
"What busyness could I possibly have? Our ever-diligent Comrade Lee is the busiest."
"What have I done to deserve such praise? Haha..."
I forced myself to maintain a pleasant expression, even as I felt like crumpling inward.
I was destined to become a bureaucrat anyway, once my Russian trip ended. I figured I might as well make up for lost organizational experience here.
"Comrade Siyoung, you've been spending a lot of time with 'those guys' lately. What's cooking in that head of yours?"
The unexpected blow from Trotsky came on a day in January, after the New Year.
"Cooking? Nothing of the sort. I just thought it'd be good to get along well with everyone..."
"Hmm. Is that so? In any case, you'd do well to stop that bat-like scheming. Those are the kind of scum who have no faith in the Revolution, only an interest in authority."
He wasn't wrong, but why did his words make my blood boil so much?
"Then, Comrade Trotsky, how do you plan to seize power?"
"What?"
"Frankly, I'm not doing this because I want to. But if you don't maintain even the most basic relationships, how do you plan to gain the support of other politicians and seize power?"
Trotsky stared at my face for a moment before turning his gaze back to his food.
"Through ability and merit. A true revolutionary proves themselves through their achievements, not by who they're friendly with."
Ah. That's why he never seized power... Who even elects the General Secretary in the first place?
"But Comrade Trotsky, don't you still need at least some basic relationships? You don't want Soviet Russia to fall into the hands of those 'authority-obsessed fools,' do you?"
"Comrade Siyeong, I'm perfectly capable of handling my own affairs."
Trotsky put down his fork and stared straight at me.
"And when it comes to seizing power, there's your way and my way. I don't think my way is wrong. We simply have different methods."
"Then what will you do if you can't seize power using your method?"
Trotsky looked at me as if I were a fool.
"I can confidently say that won't happen. Who in the Central Committee could possibly oppose me? Kamenev? Zinoviev? They're all gutless fools. Do you really think such men could ever gain power?"
"What about Comrade Stalin?"
"Stalin? That guy is worse than Kamenev. He has no theoretical understanding of Marx and can only flatter Comrade Lenin."
*...But flattery is the most important skill when it comes to being by Lenin's side...*
I sighed and said, "In any case, Comrade Trotsky needs to make some friends. The Bolshevik Members of Parliament will ultimately choose our leader. If he antagonizes them, Comrade Trotsky will never become the leader."
"Then this country will fall, and they won't elect me?"
Surprisingly, I couldn't say for certain that they wouldn't elect him.
"Anyway, you need to maintain at least the minimum necessary relationships. I'm saying this for your own good, so... please consider it."
"Ugh... Fine."
Trotsky suddenly stopped, as if struck by a thought.
"...?"
"Comrade Lenin once said something to me. He said that if I were a little more tolerant of others, I wouldn't need to worry about finding a successor."
Did Lenin really say that? Lenin... what kind of man was he?
He possessed a character as brilliant as the top of his head.
"Well, since both Comrade Lenin and you say so, I'll try. But only try."
"If you stop tearing others down, Comrade Trotsky, it's entirely possible."
"Ugh, shut up. Anyway, I must be going. You can take your time pondering this."
With that, Trotsky left.
If only that man had been a little more tolerant of others, even if his character was as thin as a rat's tail, he could have become General Secretary and more.
It's not that my child has changed; I'm the fool for deciding to go with that man.
Just as we were about to resume our meal, someone called out to me.
"Comrade Siyeong Li, is that you?"
"Yes, that's me, but..."
A man with messy hair and round glasses extended his hand, speaking Russian with a heavy foreign accent.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Karl Radek from Germany. We've met a few times before, but I don't know if you remember me."
Who is this? I have no idea who he is. I smiled awkwardly, trying to get past the awkwardness.
"Ah... yes. I've been very busy... So, what brings you here?"
"Ah, I understand. Actually, it's about a very important diplomatic matter."
Radek leaned in and whispered.
"The German Revolution is imminent."
My eyes widened.
Finally. The moment we've been waiting for has finally arrived.