Germany was slowly recovering from a nationwide general strike that had swept the country, gradually returning to normalcy. Yet the shockwaves of the upheaval still reverberated across the nation, leaving scars in its wake.
In the Ruhr region, the industrial heartland of Germany, strikes continued unabated. The strike, which originated in Essen and had spread to surrounding cities like Dortmund and Düsseldorf, was growing increasingly radical, leading to escalating clashes with the government.
"Down with the incompetent Social Democratic government!"
"Disband the parliament that fails to reflect the will of the people! We demand new elections!"
Anger toward the Steel Helmet had now shifted to the Social Democratic government that had allied with them. The scale of the strikes expanded daily, gradually spreading throughout the entire Westphalia region.
The announcement by the Berlin Council on April 30 of the First German Workers' and Soldiers' National Council Congress further stoked the burning atmosphere.
Councils across the country began sending their representatives to Berlin in response to the summons, while the panicked Social Democratic Party (SDP) scrambled to block the meeting.
Initially, the Social Democratic government had refrained from interfering with the Councils, as they had the support of most of them. What could they gain by antagonizing their own supporters?
However, after suffering a crushing defeat in the April General Election and enduring the Steel Helmet rebellion, the Social Democratic government seemed to intuitively sense that the Councils would no longer back them.
"We cannot authorize an illegal assembly."
"How is this an illegal assembly? You were silent in March!"
The Social Democratic government adopted a stance of refusing to recognize the National Council Congress.
Then the Berlin police went on strike. They announced their support for the National Council Congress and declared that if the delegates arrived in Berlin, they would voluntarily escort them to the venue. How convenient.
The startled government suddenly adopted a conciliatory stance and approved the congress on the condition that no violent actions would be taken or incited.
To be honest, I was worried that if the government had stubbornly refused to allow the National Council Congress to convene in Berlin, the movement might have been crushed piecemeal in each region.
But the Social Democratic government backed down in the face of the police strike and authorized the congress. On April 29, the day before the event, delegates from across Germany converged on Berlin.
And then came the historic day, April 30. The curtain rose on the first-ever National Council Congress of workers and soldiers in German history, held at the Prussian State Council Chamber.
***
The atmosphere was electric. The chamber, usually a bastion of imperial authority, now pulsed with the energy of the people's will. The air was thick with the scent of revolution, and the red flag—the symbol of the working class—hung proudly alongside the black-red-gold banner of the German Republic.
***
The Berlin Council, a symbol of the growing power of the working class, had been established earlier in the month. Now, as the delegates gathered, they represented not just Berlin, but the entire German people. The congress was a testament
"The German proletariat must fight against the reactionary Ebert Government! To this end, the working class must arm itself and be reorganized into a Workers' Militia!"
"Correct! Armed struggle is essential to overthrow the reactionary classes and establish a true Council Republic for the working class!"
"But an armed uprising is premature! Moreover, given the exhaustion of the workers from the recent coup by the militarists and the strike, an uprising now..."
"What? Reactionary! Red Guard! Red Guard!"
As the SDP had feared, and as the Spartacus League and the Independent Social Democratic Party had hoped, the German people, after the election and the April Coup, had completely veered to the left.
Out of the total 629 delegates, over two-thirds supported the Independent Social Democratic Party, including those backing the Spartacus League.
Even supporters of the Independent Social Democratic Party, who would normally oppose or withdraw from armed uprisings, now shared a common goal: the overthrow of the Ebert Government.
"This is going too smoothly," I remarked.
"I was just thinking the same thing," Karl Liebknecht replied. "Things shouldn't be this easy."
A sense of unease settled over us. The proposals at the meeting passed with overwhelming approval, as if they were being swept away by a torrent.
"Peace with the Allied Powers must be achieved at all costs!"
"Seconded! Seconded!"
"Furthermore, the means of production must be owned by the proletariat, and private ownership must be strictly prohibited!"
The National Council Congress was unfolding just like the one in Petrograd in October 1917.
Rosa Luxemburg presided over the meeting, managing the proceedings and summaries, while delegates from various Local Councils presented their positions.
Karl Liebknecht and I later summarized the conclusions reached at the meeting.
"Was there any mention of nationalizing state resources? Comrade Liebknecht?"
"I believe there was. Oh, and I think there was also talk of nationalizing industry."
"...In other words, the Dortmund Council officially requests assistance from the Central Council regarding the ongoing strike in the Ruhr region! Workers no longer want to produce under the coercion of authority! They demand voluntary labor under worker control of the means of production!"
"All power to the Councils! All means of production to the proletariat!"
The delegates from Westphalia, where a strike was currently underway, appealed for support for their labor action. Other delegations responded sympathetically, and the meeting gradually grew more heated.
Just then, the doors to the chamber burst open, and armed men stormed in.
"Stop! Who are you?!"
"We've come to suppress this anti-state activity under orders from the Social Democratic Party leadership. Armed struggle? Wasn't the condition for holding this meeting a pledge to avoid violence?"
Behind them, the black-red-gold flag of the German Republic fluttered.
"The meeting is over. Arrest them all. You bastards."
His command signaled armed men to flood into the chamber.
"You bastards. I knew this would happen."
I gripped the pistol I'd always carried close to my chest. The cool, heavy sensation—it had been a year since I last held it.
"Comrade Luxemburg! Comrade Liebknecht! Get out of here immediately!"
The chamber erupted into chaos as members of the Black-Red-Gold National Flag League stormed in with weapons, while the delegation tried to escape. I shouted hoarsely, my voice tearing itself from my throat:
"Comrade Luxemburg! There's an emergency exit on the left side of the podium. Get out now. I'll stay here with the delegation."
"Comrade Lee. We can't let you do this alone. I'll stay with you..."
"If you don't want to die, get out now. I'm from Russia and can survive here, but if they catch you, you'll be beaten to death immediately."
The two most famous figures in the Spartacus League were Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht. Their faces were so well-known that even if I survived, they would inevitably be killed.
If the SDP went so far as to send the Black-Red-Gold National Flag League to storm the National Council Congress, they had essentially declared open war on us.
And for us to win this struggle, those two had to survive.
"Hurry up and get out, quickly!"
Rosa Luxemburg hesitated briefly before finally fleeing the Congress chamber.
Whew. Watching the dogfight unfolding before me, I took a deep breath. There's no way I'm dying here.
I had survived both the October Revolution and the Red-White Civil War. It would be too unjust to die here. I gripped my pistol even tighter.
"Shit-eating bastards!"
With that, I unleashed a barrage of gunfire and charged at a National Flag Corps member.
***
"Good thing you're still breathing, heh heh. If you weren't a Russian diplomat, you'd be dead for sure. You're lucky."
I was trapped behind bars.
While I was busy taking down two or three National Flag Corps members in front of me, my ammunition ran out. The others swarmed me like bloodhounds, pummeling me mercilessly. Luckily, one of them recognized my face, sparing me from death.
I survived. I actually survived. That alone was a significant achievement. Because if I made it back, I could come back again...
My stomach and legs still ached from the beating, but at least my face was intact. My dignity remained intact. At least I hadn't suffered any major injuries. This was as cheap a deal as it could get.
I wondered how much time had passed. I seemed to have been unconscious for a while, as a new day was already dawning outside the window.
What had become of Luxemburg and Liebknecht? Had they survived, or had they met the same fate as in actual history, falling in battle?
Perhaps calling for the National Council Congress was premature. The meeting was dispersed, I was thrown into prison, and the fates of our leaders became unknown.
No, perhaps the real mistake was trying to spark the German Revolution in the first place. Was it foolish to even entertain the delusion that someone like me could change history?
A sudden wave of regret and reality hit me. If this was going to happen, I should have never come to Germany. I should have stayed in the Soviet Union with Maria, living a peaceful life instead of getting involved with Trotsky, Stalin, or any of this.
Just as I was wallowing in regret, faint sounds of loud conversation and approaching footsteps reached my ears from afar.
Who could it be? Could it be soldiers coming to execute me? Trembling with fear, I pressed my ear against the wall.
The voices grew louder, and the footsteps seemed to be drawing closer. Clutching at my pounding heart, I strained to listen.
"Arise, ye cursed of the earth..."
A sweet melody pierced my ears.
"Justice advances like a fiery eruption..."
Suddenly, tears began to stream down my face. Had this song ever meant so much to me, had it ever moved me so deeply?
"People, heed the call! Forward to the final battle!"
In the distance, the sound of something shattering echoed, followed by a surge in the cheering.
"The Internationale fights for human rights!"
"People, heed the call! Forward to the final battle!"
"The Internationale fights for human rights!"
Finally, the singing stopped. I stood before the barred gate, my eyes meeting those of an unknown worker. After a moment of silence, he shouted:
"He's here! An Asian comrade is here!"
No, I hate that nickname.
May 1, 1919, Labor Day.
Rescued from Spandau Prison in Berlin, I was transported into the city center by truck. I hadn't even known where I was being held.
Fortunately, Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht had also escaped safely and headed to the nearest factory. There, they declared that the National Flag Corps had violently suppressed the Council and called for an immediate strike against the Republic's oppression.
"So you actually started a strike?"
"That's right. The strike has already spread throughout Berlin. Soon, the entire German people will join us."
The Spartacus League didn't just organize a strike. The workers spontaneously formed Red Guards and fought against the National Flag Corps across Berlin.
Remarkably, the Red Guards were winning.
"We were able to reach Spandau Prison because we've taken control of Berlin. The Ebert Government has abandoned the city once again and retreated."
The Coup Forces surrendered to us just because of the strike. But what if we combined the strike with an armed uprising? The government, having witnessed the power of the workers during the April Coup, might have retreated even earlier.
"Ah, here's a special edition from this morning. Read it."
The truck raced through Berlin, arriving at the Brandenburg Gate. After stepping out, I carefully read the broadsheet given to me by the worker: Red Flag. The title, in bold letters the size of a child's fist, read:
[ Proclamation of the German Socialist Republic ]
Below was a photograph of Liebknecht fervently shaking his fist while delivering a speech. I looked up at the Brandenburg Gate before me.
A red flag—its owner unknown—fluttered high above the monument.
May 1, 1919.
The German May Revolution had finally begun.