Fall of Giants

This was a deliberate distraction, but they fell for it. Glad to have something to do, the committee members called out the names of towns that should organize Committees for Struggle. That ensured they did not pick over Grigori’s more important proposals, but let them go unchallenged; and they never thought about the long-term consequences of arming the citizens.

Isaak and Gleb drafted their letters and got them signed by the chairman without further discussion. Konstantin made his list of factory leaders and started sending messages to them. Viktor left to organize the railwaymen.

The committee began to argue about the wording of a letter to neighboring towns. Grigori slipped away. He had what he wanted. The defense of Petrograd, and of the revolution, was well under way. And the Bolsheviks were in charge of it.

What he needed now was reliable information about the whereabouts of the counterrevolutionary army. Were there really troops approaching the southern suburbs of Petrograd? If so they might have to be dealt with faster than the Committee for Struggle could act.

He walked from the Smolny Institute across the bridge the short distance to his barracks. There he found the troops already preparing to fight Kornilov’s mutineers. He took an armored car, a driver, and three reliable revolutionary soldiers, and drove across the city to the south.

In the darkening autumn afternoon they zigzagged through the southern suburbs, looking for the invading army. After a couple of fruitless hours Grigori decided there was a good chance the reports of Kornilov’s progress had been exaggerated. In any event he was likely to come across nothing more than an advance party. All the same, it was important to check them, and he persisted with his search.

They eventually found an infantry brigade making camp at a school.

He considered returning to barracks and bringing the First Machine Guns here to attack. But he thought there might be a better way. It was risky, but it would save a lot of bloodshed if it worked.

He was going to try to win by talking.

They drove past an apathetic sentry into the playground and Grigori got out of the car. As a precaution, he unfolded the spike bayonet at the end of his rifle and fixed it in the attack position. Then he slung the rifle over his shoulder. Feeling vulnerable, he forced himself to look relaxed.

Several soldiers approached him. A colonel said: “What are you doing here, Sergeant?”

Grigori ignored him and addressed a corporal. “I need to speak to the leader of your soldiers’ committee, comrade,” he said.

The colonel said: “There are no soldiers’ committees in this brigade, comrade. Get back in your car and clear off.”

But the corporal spoke up with nervous defiance. “I was the leader of my platoon committee, Sergeant-before the committees were banned, of course.”

The colonel’s face darkened with anger.

This was the revolution in miniature, Grigori realized. Who would prevail-the colonel or the corporal?

More soldiers drew near to listen.

“Then tell me,” Grigori said to the corporal, “why are you attacking the revolution?”

“No, no,” said the corporal. “We’re here to defend it.”

“Someone has been lying to you.” Grigori turned and raised his voice to address the bystanders. “The prime minister, Comrade Kerensky, has sacked General Kornilov, but Kornilov won’t go, and that’s why he has sent you to attack Petrograd.”

There was a murmur of disapproval.

The colonel looked awkward: he knew Grigori was right. “Enough of these lies!” he blustered. “Get out of here now, Sergeant, or I’ll shoot you down.”

Grigori said: “Don’t touch your weapon, Colonel. Your men have a right to the truth.” He looked at the growing crowd. “Don’t they?”

“Yes!” said several of them.

“I don’t like everything Kerensky has done,” said Grigori. “He has brought back the death penalty and flogging. But he is our revolutionary leader. Whereas your General Kornilov wants to destroy the revolution.”

“Lies!” the colonel said angrily. “Don’t you men understand? This sergeant is a Bolshevik. Everyone knows they are in the pay of Germany!”

The corporal said: “How do we know who to believe? You say one thing, Sergeant, but the colonel says another.”

“Then don’t believe either of us,” Grigori said. “Go and find out for yourselves.” He raised his voice to make sure everyone could hear him. “You don’t have to hide in this school. Go to the nearest factory and ask any worker. Speak to soldiers you see in the streets. You’ll soon learn the truth.”

The corporal nodded. “Good idea.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said the colonel furiously. “I’m ordering you all to stay within the grounds.”

That was a big mistake, Grigori thought. He said: “Your colonel doesn’t want you to inquire for yourselves. Doesn’t that show you that he must be telling you lies?”

The colonel put his hand on his pistol and said: “That’s mutinous talk, Sergeant.”

The men stared at the colonel and at Grigori. This was the moment of crisis, and death was as near to Grigori as it had ever been.