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It was October 26th, Kolya and
Ivan stood silently among the others on the newly formed Military Revolutionary
Committee. Kolya couldn’t help but feel
uneasy, standing safely in their new headquarters at the hotel Dresden. He wanted to be out on the streets with the
other revolutionary forces. They were
just hearing the report of the day’s activities from the newly elected military
leader Usievich.
“We have taken Marx’s advice, “Defense is
the death of an uprising.” Some of our
MRC forces have infiltrated the Kremlin.
They have taken up watch on the walls, but have since been surrounded by
Ryabtsev’s men. On the other hand, our
red guards have blockaded bridges and streets surrounding the Garden Circle,
preventing Ryabtsev and his men from receiving aid from the outside. We just received a message from Colonel
Ryabtsev calling on our total surrender and disbandment of our troops or he
will attack the Kremlin.”
Many of the committee shook their heads
sadly. “But his cause is lost, he cannot
carry on this battle, surely he must know that Petrograd has fallen.”
“I don’t know what he knows, but he is
still in command of the strongest troops in Moscow. Our contingencies are a trained militia of
peasants at best, not a crack force of highly trained veterans.”
“But we hold the numbers.” One committee man blurted out. Another committeeman, a Menshevik, quickly
silenced him.
“And how many socialists must die for our
victory to be assured? Yes we outnumber
them, and yes we have the Kremlin, but our force in the Kremlin stands little
to no chance. It was built with secret tunnels
known only to those crack troops that protect it. Our men would be slaughtered in a matter of
hours. And yes we have them surrounded,
but we cannot attack them, we have to wait for them to be drawn out to attack
us, crossing the bridge into Zamoskvorechye is suicide, and if we wait too
long, who knows if we will receive reinforcements or if they will?”
His last words cast a brooding silence
over the room. Ivan glanced at his
friend, who was deep in thought. A door
burst to the right of the committee and a man came running in holding out a
letter to the elderly Usievich. He
opened it scrutinously and looked up with a defiant yet empty look on his face.
“They’ve broken off negotiations and
declared martial law.” He shook his head
sadly as the door opened again and the same messenger entered carrying another
message.
“And they’ve opened fire on the
Kremlin.” The room was dreadfully silent
as if each man contemplated the failure of one thing together.
“Well what are you waiting for? Battle stations, prepare for the worst, we
must hold them!” A few moments later the
room was empty, and Kolya and Ivan found themselves jogging towards the city
center, towards Krymsky Bridge, where some of the bloodiest fighting would soon
take place.
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