XI
“Kolya!
We need to get out of the street!
Kolya!” The voice fell like a
brush of warm air amidst the loud popping of guns on the sobbing Bukharin,
holding the dying man in his arms. In
the blink of an eye, Ivan was there, prying his friend away, pulling him back
to the safety of the rough blockade of boxes and stones about 50 yards away.
They reached the blockade, and both
collapsed on the ground. Ivan looked
around distractedly at the remnants of the Red Guard that had returned. He reached for a young messenger.
“Go, tell Usievich that we need a redirect
from as many forces as he can muster, we need them here as fast as he can get
them.” As he spoke he realized how tight
of a grip he had on the boy, he was turning pale from fear. He released his grip and the boy shot away
like a bullet; Ivan knew at least part of it was from fear. He looked around. They were all afraid now. The Kremlin had fallen, just like Usievich
had predicted, and then Ryabstev had turned his attention to breaking the
siege. He had hit the bridge first, the
stormy tirade of the organized men against the make-shift militia was
terrifying, but the Red Guards had held their ground. It helped that they controlled the high
ground and many shot from the protection of the buildings as the Provisional
Government’s regiment advanced to the end of the bridge.
For hours the battle had reigned, bullets
roamed the air as plentiful as raindrops in a spring storm. Many had fallen, but the Guards had held
their ground. The regiment had retreated
back into the haze and smoke, but for how long Ivan didn’t know. Kolya grasped his friend’s hand, trying to
regain his breath. They waited hand in
hand for what seemed like hours.
The sound of running feet brought them
both back to their senses. The boy was
coming back with a message for Ivan. He
opened it gingerly.
“Well, what’s it say?” Kolya asked not knowing whether to be excited
or despondent.
“It says Red Guards are on their way and
will be here within an hour. Troops from
Petrograd have just arrived in the city.”
He let out a sigh.
“Do ya hear that Comrades? Our Red Guards from Petrograd are here to
join the fight! We’re going to win
boys!” Loud cheers and shouts reverberated
eerily off the walls around them, reminding them the battle wasn’t over. It would take nearly two weeks for the
Bolsheviks to take Moscow. But they were
going to win. The October Revolution was
a success.
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