Obvodnyi Bridge - Saint Petersburg - January 9, 1905

Vostokov tried to put on a brave face and outwardly it appeared that he was as calm as if he was out on a normal walk on a sunny Sunday morning. Inside however he was intensely agitated. The moment had arrived. Troops were stationed blocking the path across the Novo-Obvodnoi Canal. If the troops let them cross he would relax considerably.

Surveying the scene was both awe inspiring and terrifying. Straight ahead were hundreds of soldiers, both infantry and cavalry. To the right the Neva river. To the left were a few roads that could be used to escape. Behind him were 15,000 or more workers pushing their way straight towards the Obvodnyi Bridge. No matter what happened in the next few minutes Vostokov was determined that he would not go back to prison. He would not be exiled to Siberia or Switzerland for merely walking in a crowd of workers.

“Halt. You must stop now. This is an illegal gathering.” A soldier was shouting.

The marchers did come to a stop. Well at least the front rows did. Vostokov watched as a handful of marchers stepped forward to meet a delegation of soldiers and police officers.

“We are going to see the Tzar. Let us pass. You can see we are peaceful and well organized. You need not fear us.”

“You will not cross over the bridge under any circumstances.”

Vostokov felt himself being propelled forward. Clearly the marchers at the rear of the group did not know that the procession had stopped. As the crowd lurched forward any chance at negotiating a path across the bridge abruptly ended.

The next few moments were surreal. It was almost as if time slowed. Vostokov could see it all clearly and yet he was completely vulnerable and unable to stop what was about to take place.

The crowd surged forward. The cavalry paraded in front of the infantry and formed a line. The delegation from the army that had been speaking to the march leaders receded behind the cavalry. Some of the men on horseback had whips in hand, while others had sabres drawn.

The inertia of the crowd was pushing the front lines of workers directly towards the cavalry.

Another order was shouted out “Leave now. This is an unlawful assembly.”

Most of the crowd was too far away to hear the command and those who could either didn’t care or couldn’t have stopped even if they wanted to.

Seeing that their orders were being ignored the soldiers lowered their rifles and fired. The repercussion echoed as the smoke from the discharged rifles lingered momentarily before drifting into the air. To Vostokov’s amazement no one fell. A new terror had been instilled in the hearts of the marchers but Vostokov realized that they had fired a warning shot or shot blanks.

The deafening roar of hundreds of guns firing in unison sent many marchers scattering for shelter.

“Comrades! Halt! Do not betray us!” The voice of a leader had rallied the people. They would not run. At least not yet.

The lines were both advancing slowly now. Marchers moving towards cavalry and cavalry moving towards marchers. 30 feet separated them and then 20.

“Disperse!”

“Let us pass!”

“Go home!”

“We are your brothers, join with us.”

“Revolutionary behavior will not be tolerated.”

The shouts were growing louder and a mere 15 feet separated the two lines. Vostokov felt the tension. He knew blood was about to be spilled.

Then something unexpected happened an old man moved ahead of the crowd. He advanced to within 3 feet of the cavalry while everyone else was still 10 feet away. Vostokov wondered if it was the man whom he had conversed with at the Rozhdestvensky Branch but wouldn’t he be marching with them instead of the Neva Branch? Either way the man was taking an incredible risk. He was alone against an army.

The man wearing his finest clothes dropped to his knees and extended his arms to his sides showing that he was unarmed and posed no danger.

“Let these humble workers petition their loving Tzar. Give these men the dignity of meeting and honoring their Tzar.”

The words hung in the air and for a split second it seemed like there was complete silence. This momentous act of bravery had to be acknowledged by soldier and worker. The humble plead was not presented as an act of rebellion but as a sign of devotion to the Tzar. Perhaps if this man had been able to speak when the lines were 200 feet away things might have been different.

As it was the distance between the opposing factions was too close to allow the significance of this act to change the outcome. Cavalry and marcher collided. Neither side wanted to give an inch.

In unison the Cavalry continued to advance with whips beating down on those in their path. Whereas time had slowed down for Vostokov in the moments leading up to the confrontation, the moment the first whip came crashing down across a man’s shoulder everything became very chaotic and seemed to be moving in triple speed.

Those in the very front rows were propelled forward by those behind them while at the same time being pushed back by the soldiers. If they fell they were trampled by the chaotic push of the crowd. The workers put up a valiant resistance but against the whips and horses of the enemy it was never going to be a fair fight.

The secondary ranks of marchers continued to yell insults at the soldiers. Vostokov was pushing his way closer to the army. He truly hated the Tzar. This was his chance to get his pound of flesh. But then the words of the old man flashed through his mind from his discussion. “Let the Tzar provide the provocation. Make him the enemy.“ it was not time to fight. Not yet. He needed to make it to the Winter Palace. He had to see the Tzar’s actions there.

“Comrades to the ice!” He shouted as he pushed his way towards the Neva river. “To the ice!”

Small groups were breaking away from the conflict and moving towards the fences that had been placed to stop them from crossing the river over the ice. The temporary fencing was quickly dismantled and workers began to tentatively move out onto the ice.

Vostokov lead the way. This was the moment of extreme danger. He would be alone on the ice. A clear target for the worst marksman in the Tzar’s army. If they wanted to turn this into a massacre, Vostokov was providing the opportunity. As he took several steps out onto the frozen Neva River he fully expected a bullet to rip through his back. It was too late to turn back now. If his life was lost he would die knowing that he had been a revolutionary until the end. After a couple dozen more steps Vostokov actually turned to look at the soldiers. They were letting him go. They saw and they took no action. They were following their orders to the word. They were not going to let anyone cross the Obvodnyi Bridge. But if you bypassed the canal and crossed the Neva river instead they were not going to stop you. Vostokov wondered if that was the lasting influence of the old man. Perhaps he had softened the hearts of the soldiers enough to allow the marchers to continue onward by a different route.

As Vostokov continued towards the Winter Palace he reflected on what he had seen. People who had been whipped would have nasty gashes. The only people who would have been seriously hurt would be those who had been trampled. Vostokov hoped that number was small. He also hoped that others in the city would fair just as well if not better.

Nikolaevskii Bridge - Sunday January 9, 1905

Ivan Novikov grinned nervously as he saw the contingent of soldiers well in front of the Nikolaevskii Bridge. There was no way they were making it past these soldiers. Those prayers that these marchers had uttered earlier were about to be ignored. The Tzar was about to prove that he was more powerful than the fake god these workers were devoted to. Power was the only thing that ruled the world and it belong to the Tzar and his soldiers on this avenue in Saint Petersburg. Everyone in the streets right now owed their safety to the whims of a tyrant.

So Ivan Novikov grinned nervously as he waited to see what would happen next. Was the tyrant Nicky in a good mood and would that mean the marchers would be allowed to pass? Or was he feeling vindictive and ready to crush the wage slaves who dared challenge his authority. Novikov’s grin grew and he smirked under his breath. If he was in the position of the Tzar he would crush these workers. There was no way they could be allowed to question his absolute power. How could the rest of these marchers not see the obvious. It was clear as day. In order to remain in power Nicky had to destroy these workers.

The workers should have taken to this march fully armed. They should fight for power. They could only claim their freedom by force. Power can only be replaced by something more powerful and these marchers were weak. By associating himself with them Novikov was acknowledging his own weakness. The thought wiped the smirk off his face and filled him with rage.

The rage was quickly replaced with the smirk again. What were these workers doing. A small group of workers had stepped ahead of the body of marchers waving white handkerchiefs. Novikov couldn’t help but laugh at such a show of weakness. Did they really think they could politely ask for permission to go to the winter palace?

Novikov was too far away to hear what they were saying but just like everyone else he saw the response. The cavalry came charging at the marchers. Everyone scattered to avoid the charge. Once the cavalry returned to their starting position the marchers formed their own ranks again.

Novikov wondered what would happen next in this game of cat and mouse. As soon as he fell back in line he heard the army bugler sound out some sort of call. What it meant he could only guess based on what he saw. It terrified him momentarily. The infantry brought their rifles to the firing position. Novikov flinched expecting to hear the roar of the rifles. He closed his eyes waiting for a bullet to rip through his body.

Half a second later he opened his eyes. There was a thundering sound headed his way, just not the bullets he had expected. The horses were charging again. This time with far more aggression. Sabres were drawn and whips were cracking.

On the first charge the cavalry had trotted in a tight formation giving the marchers a chance to scatter. Now however they were spread out. They were actively trying to disperse the crowd. Novikov and a small group of about 15 others started to run west towards the nearest side street as the men on horseback closed the gap.

Screams of pain pierced Novikov’s ears and propelled his legs to move faster than they had in years. The clapping of horses hooves grew louder and louder. Novikov took a look over his shoulder and saw a soldier mere feet behind him. With one hand on the reins and another raising his whip, Novikov knew he was in trouble.

He had to get away and he didn’t have any time.

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack, clack! The horses were drawing closer. The echoes of their hooves on the cobblestone reverberated in Novikov’s ears. Clack, clack! Clack, clack. The soldier was primed to strike. As the soldier flicked his wrist Novikov dove to his left. He hit the pavement hard and was grateful that he was wearing his thick winter coat, which helped soften the blow. Still he found it hard to breathe as the hard landing had knocked the wind out of him. Luckily the cracking whip had missed him.

Unfortunately he didn’t have the proper amount of time to catch his breath. The next soldier was already upon him. Novikov did the only thing that he could think of. He rolled. As he tumbled across the pavement he heard the unique sound of brick and whip colliding less than 2 inches from his chin. He scrambled to his feet and off of the main avenue where the marchers had once been gathered.

The sound of horses hooves had started to fade as the soldiers sought new victims. The shrieks and wailing of pain told Novikov that those victims were being found.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it comrade.” A young worker said as he put his arm around Novikov’s shoulder.

Startled Novikov wanted to push this man away. Yet at the same time he wanted to have someone to talk to.

“That was terrifying.” He responded.

“You have good instincts though. I thought you were going to get trampled in that stampede.”

“You saw it?”

“I was several rows behind you, so I was able to veer off onto this side street and then looked to see if the soldiers would follow. I saw them charging straight at you. Two of them. They had you picked out.”

“Why did they keep going then?”

“I guess you were too nimble. There were easier targets. Or maybe they just didn’t want to slow down. Either way it is your lucky day. You must have had a guardian angel watching over you or something.”

“Angels don’t exist.”

“Well then I guess you are just lucky.” The worker said with a chuckle. “Come on let’s head back to the branch. Maybe the leaders will have a new plan for us. It is a shame those soldiers didn’t let us through though.