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It's the early hours of the morning of July 17, 1918.

In a remote forest in Russia, a group of 30 revolutionaries wait around in the dark,

smoking cigarettes and taking turns swinging from a bottle of vodka.

Occasionally, the cast anxious, expectant glances toward the forest road that leads to the nearby town

of Jakarta-Rinberg. One of the revolutionaries, a young man with a dark beard and flat cap,

steps away from the group and lights up another cigarette.

As he exhales a long ribbon of smoke, he reflects on the state of Russia today,

a nation plagued by war, factionalism, and ideological discord.

But the man's thoughts are interrupted when the faint rumble of an approaching vehicle

cuts through the still-night air. Young man flicks away the cigarette,

squins into the darkness. A pair of headlights looms through the trees as a truck comes

traveling along the road. After the vehicle rolls to a stop, a group of fellow revolutionaries

clamor down. They greet their comrades, then gesture toward the truck bed with the point of

their bayonets. Whatever's in there is covered by a large sheet of woven burlap,

but it appears like a mess of misshapen logs. At the senior officer's instruction,

two men step forward, pull aside the burlap covering.

Immediately, a foul stench reaches the young man's nostrils, making him recoil and disgust.

Piled in the truck bed is what looks like an assortment of bloody animal carcasses,

but as the young man appears closer, he realizes they are not slaughtered animals,

...