This was rubbish, but Grigori had been a deputy long enough to know how to get around it. He moved immediately to take control of the meeting and get the committee focused on action instead of words.
“Yes, comrade Chairman, if I may,” he said. “I propose there are five things we need to do.” A numbered list was always a good idea: people felt they had to listen until you got to the end. “First: Mobilize the Petrograd soldiers against the mutiny of General Kornilov. How can we achieve this? I suggest that Corporal Isaak Ivanovich should draw up a list of the principal barracks with the names of reliable revolutionary leaders in each. Having identified our allies, we should send a letter instructing them to put themselves under the orders of this committee and get ready to repel the mutineers. If Isaak begins now he can bring list and letter back to this committee for approval in a few minutes’ time.”
Grigori paused briefly to allow people to nod, then, taking that for approval, he went on.
“Thank you. Carry on, comrade Isaak. Second, we must send a message to Kronstadt.” The naval base at Kronstadt, an island twenty miles offshore, was notorious for its brutal treatment of sailors, especially young trainees. Six months ago the sailors had turned on their tormentors, and had tortured and murdered many of their officers. The place was now a radical stronghold. “The sailors must arm themselves, deploy to Petrograd, and put themselves under our orders.” Grigori pointed to a Bolshevik deputy whom he knew to be close to the sailors. “Comrade Gleb, will you undertake that task, with the committee’s approval?”
Gleb nodded. “If I may, I will draft a letter for our chairman to sign, then take it to Kronstadt myself.”
“Please do.”
The committee members were now looking a bit bewildered. Things were moving faster than usual. Only the Bolsheviks were unsurprised.
“Third, we must organize factory workers into defensive units and arm them. We can get the guns from army arsenals and from armaments factories. Most workers will need some training in firearms and military discipline. I suggest this task be carried out jointly by the trade unions and the Red Guards.” The Red Guards were revolutionary soldiers and workers who carried firearms. Not all were Bolsheviks, but they usually obeyed orders from the Bolshevik committees. “I propose that comrade Konstantin, the deputy from the Putilov works, take charge of this. He will know the leading union in each major factory.”
Grigori knew that he was turning the population of Petrograd into a revolutionary army, and so did the other Bolsheviks on the committee, but would the rest of them figure that out? At the end of this process, assuming the counterrevolution was defeated, it was going to be very difficult for the moderates to disarm the force they had created and restore the authority of the provisional government. If they thought that far ahead they might try to moderate or reverse what Grigori was proposing. But at the moment they were focused on preventing a military takeover. As usual, only the Bolsheviks had a strategy.
Konstantin said: “Yes, indeed, I’ll make a list.” He would favor Bolshevik union leaders, of course, but they were nowadays the most effective anyway.
Grigori said: “Fourth, the Railwaymen’s Union must do all it can to hamper the advance of Kornilov’s army.” The Bolsheviks had worked hard to gain control of this union, and now had at least one supporter in every locomotive shed. Bolshevik trade unionists always volunteered for duty as treasurer, secretary, or chairman. “Although some troops are on the way here by road, the bulk of the men and their supplies will have to come by rail. The union can make sure they get held up and sent on long diversions. Comrade Viktor, may the committee rely on you to do this?”
Viktor, a railwaymen’s deputy, nodded agreement. “I will set up an ad hoc committee within the union to organize the disruption of the mutineers’ advance.”
“Finally, we should encourage other cities to set up committees like this one,” Grigori said. “The revolution must be defended everywhere. Perhaps other members of this committee could suggest which towns we should communicate with?”
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
