Burning Moscow

　　 The sky is gloomy, the thick clouds are pressing down in the low altitude, and the snowflakes have been falling down one after another.

　　 Just now the two regiment leaders of the 1073 regiment and the 1075 regiment arrived at the headquarters, and the political commissars who were forced to wait were pulled outside the headquarters to hold an open-air memorial service for General Panfilov.

　　 There was a half-ton convertible truck parked outside the door. It was not known whether it was brought by the two heads or the political commissar was transferred from another place. Anyway, after listening to the political commissar, once the memorial service was over, they immediately sent the car to take General Panfilov’s body to Moscow.

Outside the 　　 division headquarters, more than two hundred soldiers stood unevenly like a tree. They surrounded the political commissars standing on the stumps and listened to his speech with serious expressions and intently.

　　 I stand two or three meters behind the political commissar, with my left hand hanging on my chest, and a submachine gun in my right hand. This shape made me feel particularly uncomfortable. I thought that if the submachine gun in my hand was replaced by a whisk and the military uniform on my body was replaced by a monk's robe, it would look like a one-armed divine nun.

　　 Although I have been absent-minded, most of the words of the political commissar standing on the stump got into my ears. When he told the soldiers how the commander rushed into the enemy to fight bravely before he died, I couldn't help but froze. You know, when General Panfilov was shot and died, I happened to stand by and witness the whole process. I remember that after being shot, the teacher didn't say a word. He covered his chest and fell on his back on the snow. He didn't even shout any rhetoric. How did he start rushing into the enemy? !

When I was thinking about it, I suddenly felt that my surroundings suddenly became quiet. I quickly turned my head and looked around, only to find that the political commissar had stopped talking, took the lead in taking off the hat on my head, led all the soldiers, and bowed my head towards the stretcher covered with it. The general's body on the blanket mourned in silence.

　　 I quickly put the submachine gun on my shoulder and took off the cotton army cap from my head. The weather was very cold, and as soon as the cold wind blew, I suddenly felt cold on my forehead, and my brain was sore from the cold. I wanted to put my hat back on immediately, but when I saw that everyone around me was bareheaded and buried in silence, I couldn't be special, so I had to bite the bullet and persevere.

　　 Although the period of silence was very short, as short as less than a minute, to me, it was as long as a century. When the political commissar spoke again, I couldn't wait to put my hat on my head, and pressed my forehead with my hands, until I felt the coldness slowly leaving me, then I put my hand down.

　　 The four soldiers stepped forward and lifted the stretcher on which the body of General Panfilov was lying, and looked at the truck with serious expressions. When we got to the car, the stretcher stopped. The two fighters who were standing in the car first put down the tailgate, and then squatted down to help the fighters under the car lift the stretcher into the car.

　　 "Comrades!" The voice of the political commissar resounded next to him: "Let's shoot off for the brave teacher!" After speaking, he took out the pistol from his waist and held it high above his head. Hearing his order, more than two hundred weapons of various calibers also pointed towards the sky. I took the submachine gun from my shoulder and aimed it into the air.

　　 As the car started, there was a intensive gunfire. Everyone pulled the trigger, and the sound of machine guns, submachine guns, rifles, and pistols became a whole. I cleaned up the bullets in the gun cleanly, and then hung the submachine gun on my shoulder again. After all, holding one hand was really exhausting.

"Comrades!" When the truck driving along the bumpy dirt road disappeared from everyone's sight, the political commissar began to speak again: "I have good news to tell you. Because our division is defending Volokola. In the battle of Msk, for the bravery and tenacity shown and the brilliant results achieved, the Supreme Soviet awarded us the Red Banner Medal and renamed our division the Eighth Guards Division..."

　　 Red Flag Medal? ! This statement confuses me again. I seem to have never heard anyone say about the medal, and when I relayed it, there was no mention of medals or medals at all. Who did the political commissar say about it?

Hearing this astonishing news, a soldier standing close to the political commissar was already excited, and shouted at the surrounding soldiers: "Have you heard? The Supreme Soviet awarded us the honorary title of the Eighth Guards Division. Go!!!"

　　 For the Soviets who love honor, what can be more cheered than receiving the praise of the Supreme Commander-in-chief and awarding the honorary title?

One person, two people, three people, first the people around us, and then even the soldiers standing in the distance cheered loudly. Everyone exhausted all their strength and cheered and shouted: "Wula! Wula!! !"

The soldiers were yelling, the political commissars were yelling, and everyone was yelling. In the end, even I was infected by the atmosphere and couldn't help but yelled with them. Everyone was yelling the same sentence: "Wula! Ulla!!!"

When the shouting was almost done, the political commissar made a gesture and shouted: "Please be quiet, everyone, let the new division commander Lieutenant Colonel Oshanina speak to us." After the place was quiet, he jumped from the stump. After coming down, let me step forward to give an inaugural speech.

　　 Finally it was my turn to make a debut. I held the hat on my head with my hand, raised my leg and stepped on the stump. Someone nearby helped me stand on the stump smoothly.

　　 Amidst the flying snow, facing the black and crushed head, I formed an irregular team, facing the faces full of gunpowder, and raised my hand solemnly to pay a military salute.

"Comrades, our heroic commander General Panfilov died, and many of our comrades fell. Although they can no longer speak, they can no longer charge with us to fight against fascist bandits, but they are still alive. In our hearts, their achievements will last forever..." As I spoke, I felt that I couldn't speak anymore, and my eyes were a little wet.

　　 The sound of guns and explosions in the distance filled my short silence.

I took a deep breath, stabilized my emotions, and continued to say: "...Now General Panfilov has died, but we still shoulder the sacred mission of defending Moscow. We will continue to fight with the fascist bandits here. Although the next battle will be more difficult, the commander will be with us, and his spirit in the sky will bless us to win the final victory!"

"Victory!——Ula!!! Victory!——Ula!!!" The soldiers began to cheer again ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ and standing on the stump I couldn't help but smile wryly, feeling the old Maozi's vocabulary again. Poverty. Except for the word "Ula", don't you have any vocabulary to express your feelings?

　　 I got down from the stump, and the political commissar stepped forward and said something. Then following his dissolution order, the soldiers immediately dispersed.

　　 I stopped Lieutenant Ramis, who was passing by, and ordered him to say, "Comrade Lieutenant, from today on, your company will be the guard of the division and be under the direct command of the division."

"But," he said hesitantly: "My company is under the jurisdiction of the 1073 regiment. Without a formal written order, let us be directly under the jurisdiction of the division. Is this appropriate?" He said, his eyes glanced towards A lieutenant colonel standing not far away.

I resisted the urge to kick him, and patiently explained to him: "During the enemy’s sneak attack just now, the division’s security forces have been completely lost. At present, your company is the closest to the division, and the organization is the most complete. If you don’t find you, who should you go to work as a guard for the division?” I also glanced at the lieutenant colonel, raised my voice and said, “I’m now a division commander, and everything about the eighth division guards I have the final say, do you understand?"

　　 "Yes!" Ramis reluctantly accepted the reality, saluted me and ran away.

The political commissar stepped forward and took my hand. At the same time, he greeted several commanders around him and said, "Comrade commanders, don't stand here. Let's all go to the headquarters. We should discuss the next combat deployment. La."