The Firebrand, the Fugitive, and the Future Marshal

Pictured: the cover of Soviet Literature Monthly from November 1968, Marshal V.I. Chuikov. Soviet Literature Monthly was a periodical published in Moscow from 1946 until 1990, and included excerpts from well-known Soviet authors translated into various languages.

The assassination attempt on Vladimir Lenin on 30 August 1918 stands as a defining moment in the early years of Soviet power, revealing both the deep opposition the Bolsheviks faced and the intensity of the revolutionary struggle. As the newly formed Soviet state grappled with civil unrest and counterrevolutionary threats, the attack on Lenin by Socialist Revolutionary Fanny Kaplan sent shockwaves through the ranks of the Bolshevik leadership and the Russian public. Eyewitness accounts, such as those of Vasily Vasilievich Ilyin and Marshal Vasily Chuikov, offer personal insight into the event and the immediate aftermath of the shooting—both the violence that occurred on the ground and the swift retributive measures that followed. These firsthand narratives capture not only the chaos and fear that gripped Moscow but also the Bolshevik commitment to consolidating power in the face of violent opposition.

Known for his fiery speeches and ability to inspire to action, Vladimir Lenin was the target of various assassination attempts during the volatile years following the Russian Revolution, with the most notable occurring on 30 August 1918. That evening, as Lenin was leaving the Mikhelson Factory in Moscow after delivering a speech, Fanny Kaplan, a member of the Socialist Revolutionary Party, shot him at close range, wounding him in the shoulder and neck. Remarkably, Lenin survived the attack, though he never fully recovered, and the incident likely contributed to his declining health and eventual death. The attempted assassination of Vladimir Lenin and the aftermath are recounted in two personal accounts that capture both the immediate violence and the revolutionary response it provoked.

Pictured: the first page of a personal account of Lenin’s assassination attempt from the files of Vasily Vasilievich Ilyin, who was a former Red Guard and Red Partisan and active participant in the Great October Socialist Revolution of 1917 in Moscow. A member of the Joint State Political Directorate (OGPU – formerly known as the Cheka), he worked directly for Felix Dzerzhinsky and was personally responsible for the train transport of Lenin’s body after his death in 1924. Ilyin wrote a brief description of the events of 30 August 1918:

“Comrade Lenin was registered with the party at the former Zamoskvoretsky district committee of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks). I had the good fortune to see him many times at Moscow’s activist meetings, at gatherings of workers in the Zamoskvoretsky district, where he spoke many times. In 1918, at the former Mikhelson factory, now the Ilyich factory, when Comrade Lenin unexpectedly appeared on the podium before the thousands-strong assembly, there was great joy.

After finishing his speech, Comrade Lenin went towards the exit, seemingly in a hurry. When Comrade Lenin approached the car, a Social Revolutionary (SR) named Kaplan, from close range, fired three shots from a small Browning pistol. Two bullets seriously wounded him, while the third only grazed him, causing no significant harm. There was a large crowd, and the SR who shot at Comrade Lenin was detained on the spot and nearly torn apart by the people. Despite his severe injuries, when Comrade Lenin was lifted up, he said: ‘Comrades, communists, do not allow mob justice; pass this over to the investigating authorities for examination.’

Comrade Lenin was urgently sent by the same car to receive first aid, while the SR Kaplan was taken for preliminary questioning in Zamoskvorechye, and then transferred to the center. After the injury, Comrade Lenin had to undergo treatment. But he returned to work again.”

Marshal Chuikov described the aftermath of Lenin’s 30 August 1918 assassination attempt in his memoir Youth Was Tempered in Battles, an excerpt of which appeared as an English translation in the November 1968 issue of Soviet Literature Monthly. The same gripping account was later included in Nikolai Kartashov’s biographical work Vasily Chuikov. Long before achieving the high military rank of Marshal of the Soviet Union, Vasily Ivanovich began his career in the Red Army as a cadet, gaining knowledge and experience that would serve him well as a young leader. About this early experience he wrote:

“Tactics, range shooting, manual of arms, bayonet practice—all day long at top gear from reveille to taps. A cadet is not a private, and in all types of training he must take a double load. If you want to be a commander of troops, you’ve got to temper yourself body and soul, endure it all in preparation for future harder tests.” (107)

One such test came in the early hours of 31 August 1918. Chuikov and a few of his fellow cadets were urgently mobilized by the Cheka to assist in apprehending the suspected plotters. After being armed and transported to a suburb of Moscow, they surrounded a dacha where the suspects were believed to be hiding. As Chuikov stood guard in the dark, he spotted a man attempting to escape over a fence. When the fugitive ignored his command to halt, Chuikov fired:

“In complete darkness, the roll was called, and we were divided into groups of five to ten and issued sixty cartridges each. Two Chekists led our group to a lorry, which we boarded. One of the Chekists sat in the cab with the driver, the other joined us in the back. The one with us said in a low voice,

‘An attempt was made today to kill Comrade Lenin.’ My heart missed a beat and I felt a cold lump in my chest. Was he alive?

‘Lenin is alive,’ the Chekist went on, ‘but the plotters have not yet been rendered harmless. We are now going to arrest them.’

I was in such a distraught state that I could not tell what streets we drove through nor where we disembarked. All I knew was that we were in a suburb, a township. We left our lorry at the edge of it and advanced several hundred paces. The Chekists posted us around a dacha, instructing us not to let anyone in or out. In the company of two of our cadets they entered the house.

The minutes dragged slowly. Lights appeared in the windows, and then two shots rang out, followed by the tinkle of broken glass.

I was standing at one corner of the dacha when I heard the sound of running feet. I crouched and drove a cartridge into the breech of my rifle. A dark shape flitted across the lighted window as a man clambered up the fence.

‘Halt, or I shoot!’

The person jumped from the fence. I fired, hitting him as he came down. Was he alive? Perhaps he was at this very moment taking aim at me?

Soon the sound of familiar voices came from the dacha. The Chekists came out, lighting up the way before them with electric torches. Before they reached the fence one of them inquired, ‘Who fired?’

‘I.’

‘Did he get away?’

‘I don't think so.’

We walked over to the spot where the man had fallen. He was dead. The lorry drove up. With two arrested men and the dead body in the back, we made off for Moscow to Lubyanka Square.

Moscow was humming like a disturbed beehive. Columns of workers carried posters saying, We Demand Red Terror Against the White Terror! through the streets. I recalled Lenin's speech in the Manège and once again thought: the man with the rifle—how necessary and important this now was.” (111-112)

The firsthand experiences of Ilyin and Chuikov illuminate the intensity of the moment and the larger implications of Lenin’s near-fatal shooting. This particular attempt on Lenin’s life became a catalyst—deepening revolutionary resolve, hardening ideological divides, and reinforcing the image of Lenin not only as a leader of the Soviet state but as a symbolic figure of revolutionary endurance.