The two men were bound for the Smolny Institute, once an educational institution for young women of the nobility, now the headquarters for the revolutionary Bolshevik party, the central hub from which their tentacles reached out into the city and from which they planned to execute their coup. It was a fitting transformation for this venerable old building, symbolic of the fate of Russia as a whole, for the old aristocratic and noble order was about to be obliterated in fire and blood and replaced with the first communist state the world had ever seen.

As historian Warren Carroll relates in “1917: Red Banners, White Mantle,” the two men successfully crossed the Neva River while a guard’s attention was diverted. But their next obstacle was not so easily overcome: Two guards on horseback halted the travelers and demanded to see their passes. They had no passes.
One of the two travelers, a young Finn named Eino Rahja, thinking quickly, pretended to be drunk. In the end, the guards decided they didn’t want to bother with scum like that, a pair of low-life drunkards, and they let them pass.

A Fanatic’s Insistence
The idea of the coup had been Lenin’s, though he didn’t personally play a role in it prior to that nighttime walk on Nov. 6. Aided by German logistics and funding—including a sealed train and money to organize his party and set up a press—Lenin had been sent back into Russia from exile earlier in 1917 in order to destabilize the country from the inside. This, the Germans hoped, would lead to Russia’s surrender, bringing Germany one step closer to final victory in “The Great War.”
From his hiding place in an agronomy student’s apartment, Lenin wrote an article on how to conduct a revolution. Carroll quotes a key line from it: “The success of both the Russian and the world revolution depends upon two or three days of struggle.” Those days were coming.