Burning Moscow

　　 The last two sections of the train still stayed in the tunnel. The gap between the car body and the tunnel wall was very small. I didn’t feel it was walking alone. I felt a bit crowded when I walked side by side with Bukov. At this time, I couldn't help admiring the foresight of the mother with the baby. In such a cramped place, pushing a stroller would really not be able to walk.

　　 I asked Bukov: "Who is there with the bomb?"

"The lieutenant you brought is here. I told him that as soon as I heard something about the bomb, I would fire a warning shot so that we could move the crowd to a safe place in time. Although we can't go outside yet, But you can hide in the tunnels of the upper-line subway. No matter how powerful the bomb is, it is impossible to blow up the entire subway station."

"Well, you make sense." Although I said so, I didn't think it was true. Since the bomb can penetrate more than ten or twenty meters of soil and penetrate the marble and fall on the subway track, the power of the explosion is not small. . Even if the buildings here can't be collapsed, the shock wave from the explosion is estimated to have killed many people.

　　 While talking, we both came to the hall unknowingly. As soon as I entered the hall, I saw a dwarf of people. Estimated from the number, there were about eight or nine hundred people. However, because Lao Maozi has the habit of not making loud noises in public places, although there are a large number of people, only a few people are talking in low voices, and the hall still seems very quiet.

Among the people standing in the front row were handsome guys in shirts and trousers, beautiful girls in bragis of various colors, intellectuals with glasses and briefcases, old people on crutches, and childish people. Cute kid...

　　 saw us walk into the hall, and a police officer walked out of the crowd. I glanced at his epaulette, which was a three-star bar, it was a captain. He walked up to us, took out his own documents and handed them over, saying: "I am the police captain Gustov, and I am the deputy chief of the Criminal Investigation Division of the 51st Civil Police Department in Moscow. This is my document. I want to know what happened here. What happened? What happened to the **** bomb that drove us to an emergency stop? And why are you all wearing World War II military uniforms, are you making a movie?"

Bukov took the certificate and looked at it. He frowned, handed it to me, and then questioned the civilian police captain: "Comrade Captain, I don't understand what you said. We are soldiers and we are defending our homeland. Fighting. The Germans have already hit the city of Moscow, the capital. Who has the leisure time to make any movies?"

　　 I flipped through the ID casually, and did not speak, and handed him the captain's ID. When he received the certificate, he looked at me up and down, and said unconvincedly: "I'm not making a movie," he pointed to me, "In our army's organizational system, the highest rank of a female soldier is just a lieutenant. And look at you, the collar is actually the rank of lieutenant colonel, and even more so, two red flag medals and a bravery medal are worn on the chest. This is nothing short of a fantasy."

　　 "She is the commander of our Eighth Guards Division, Lieutenant Colonel Oshanina." Grisa, who came to me behind me when I didn't know when, spoke to reveal my identity.

Unexpectedly, the other party smiled contemptuously, and said disdainfully: "Let's pull it down! You still want to lie. Anyone with a little bit of military knowledge knows that on the day the 316th Infantry Division won the honorary title of the Eighth Guards Division, the commander Panfilo General Levy died near his headquarters. It was Major General Leviakin who succeeded him and served as the first commander of the Guards Division."

　　 Hearing what he said, I was stunned. It turned out that my arrival still caused a small deviation in history. The position that should have belonged to General Leviakin was actually robbed by me? To the ridicule of the police captain, I was speechless in a hurry.

Seeing that there was no answer from our side, the train driver ran over and asked in a dissatisfied tone: "I said, Comrade Commander, you guys are almost joking. When can my train start again? Don’t delay. Operating timetable, I departed from Belarus Station at 21:16 and arrived at Red Blissnow Station. It was exactly 21:30. Now it is 45 minutes. The delay is long enough. Please go and take it. The staff at the station came and asked them to prove to me that the order was missed for special reasons."

　　 It may be that when the driver and the police said this, the originally quiet crowd began to riot, and even an old lady also stood up and shouted at us.

　　 "Quiet! Comrades, please be quiet!!!" Bukov shouted loudly, trying to stop the commotion, but his thin voice was completely suppressed by the noisy voices. People began to squeeze forward, pushing back step by step the human wall made up of soldiers who saw that the situation was wrong and running hurriedly, arm in arm.

　　 "Papa! Papa! Papa!" Three crisp gunshots suddenly sounded, stabilizing the situation that was about to lose control, and the crowd calmed down, staring behind me in a daze. I turned my head to see, it turned out to be Lieutenant Dolnikov. He held the pistol with the smoke aloft and shouted: "Quiet! What do you want to do? Be quiet!" Then he turned to face the person standing behind. A group of fighters shouted: "What are you doing in a daze? These are dangerous people. Come up and control them all."

　　 Following his shout, hula la charged up to more than twenty soldiers. When they passed me, I found that these soldiers were different from those of Bukov. They were wearing dark green uniforms, blue cloth hats, and light machine guns with large discs in their hands. Seeing their attire, I couldn't help but shudder, and suddenly remembered that they were the troops of the People's Committee of the Interior that held the power of life and death.

　　 Seeing these fierce fighters standing in front of them with their guns in their hands, people were a little flustered, and they all swept back involuntarily. But the people behind didn't know what happened, they were still squeezing forward, and the scene became a mess for a while. I looked at Bukov next to him, and saw that his face was also blue and lips were white, and his body was trembling slightly.

　　 Lieutenant Dolnikov crossed the cordon with a gun, walked to the crowd and stopped. His eyes swept across the crowd, then raised his left hand, pointed at the police captain, and said, "Come here!"

　　 The police captain walked up to him carelessly and asked dissatisfiedly: "It's time to end, Comrade Lieutenant! How long do you want to maintain this farce? Don't delay everyone coming home. Many people will have to go to work tomorrow!"

　　 Dolnikov did not directly answer his question. Instead, he lit his epaulettes with his gun and asked: "What's the matter? Why is your military rank worn on the epaulettes, and what is the rank of three stars?"

When asked by him, Captain Gustov was a little baffling. He said blankly: "Military ranks are originally worn on the epaulettes. If you are a real officer, you wouldn't even lack this common sense. Do you know? Our country carried out a military rank reform in June 1943. The practice of wearing the military rank on the collar badge was abolished and replaced with epaulettes. My military rank is captain, don't you see it?"

　　 "Nonsense!" Dolnikov gritted his teeth and said fiercely: "Do you think this will deceive us? You **** German spy!" He raised his pistol and pointed at Gustov.

　　 Gustov was not to be outdone, and reached out his hand to touch his waist, ready to draw a gun. A soldier next to Dolnikov slammed the trigger. Amidst the ear-splitting gunfire, a row of blood holes was opened on the chest of Gustov’s light blue uniform, with gun-smoke craters. He jumped out of the gun and landed on the marble floor, making a crisp sound. Gustov covered his chest with anger in his eyes, glared fiercely at the soldier who shot him, took a difficult step forward, and then fell straight on his back. Seeing him fall to the ground, people around him screamed and scattered around.

　　 I stood behind and witnessed everything happen. Due to Dolnikov's special status, in this case, even though my military rank was much higher than him, I didn't dare to step forward to stop him. I could only stand still and tremble with fright. In fact, it was not just me, even Captain Bukov just stood there in a daze. The Ministry of Internal Affairs is synonymous with horror to everyone. They can do things according to their own preferences, and no one has the right to stop them except their superiors. Bukov has no right, nor do I have the right, even senior commanders like Rokosovsky and Zhukov have no right.

　　 Dolnikov took a step forward, pointed his gun at the train driver again, and said loudly, "You! Come out!"

　　 The driver walked out of the crowd tremblingly, crying and pleading: "Don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

　　 Dolnikov grabbed him by the collar, put a gun against his temple, and yelled: "Say, are you German spies?"

　　 "No, no!" The driver was so frightened that he yelled again and again: "We are really not spies, the Germans are our allies, our allies...Don't kill me! Don't kill me!..."

　　 Dolnikov hit the driver's head with a gun severely, and the driver suddenly burst into blood and fell to the ground groaning. Seeing the driver's embarrassment, he was still uncomfortable and cursed fiercely: "Not to mention that they are not spies. The Germans have hit the city of Moscow, and they may attack the city at any time. Do you still say that they are our allies?"

"What are you doing? Stop it!" An old man with a cane tremblingly walked out of the crowd, came to Dolnikov, raised his cane and pointed at him and said, "Why do you want to Hit the driver? He was right. Germany is now our ally, and we still have our army stationed in Berlin."

Perhaps seeing that the other party was an old man, Lieutenant Dolnikov’s attitude was a little better. At least he didn’t fist the old man, but his tone of voice was still very strong: "You said our army is stationed in Berlin, and that’s outside Moscow. Who are we fighting? And who dropped the bomb on the railroad tracks?"

　　 "Can you take me to see it?" The old man leaned on his cane in both hands, looking at Dolnikov and asked.

　　 "You?!" Dolnikov said contemptuously, "What use is it for you to see it?"

　　 The old man looked at him and said in a calm tone: "I am a veteran who participated in World War II. After retiring, I entered the arsenal and worked as a senior engineer in the factory."

I knew exactly who these people were and where they came from. When the old man said this, I hurriedly stepped forward to complete the battle: "Comrade Lieutenant, since the old man said this, I will take him over and see. Other things will be discussed later. Let's talk about it." As I said, I stepped forward and supported the old man, and took him to the platform to watch the bomb.

　　 Seeing that I had helped the old man away, Dolnikov had to say to his subordinates: "Watch them." Then, like Bukov and others, walked behind us to the platform.

As soon as I walked to the platform, the old man made a sudden ah, and then broke free of my arm and rushed forward, squatted down on the edge of the platform, and kept chanting: "This is impossible, this is impossible.... "

"What's the matter? Old man!" Ramis, who was squatting next to monitoring the movement of the bomb, asked curiously~www.wuxiaspot.com~ The old man pointed to the bomb and said to us: "Look, this is the German SD-1800. Ground-penetrating bombs are specially used to deal with our reinforced concrete air defense basement. Like the SC-2500 bomb that bombed the Brest Fortress that year, they are both powerful and heavy bombs, but they were discontinued as early as 20 years ago. Now, why do you appear here?"

　　 "We all know this is a heavy bomb, but how do you distinguish the model of the bomb?" Bukov was also interested.

Hearing what he said, the old man said triumphantly: "You don't understand this, let me literate you. The German aviation bombs are usually divided into 50 kg, 250 kg, 500 kg, and 1 ton. , 1.8 tons and 2.5 tons in six categories. The blasting bombs marked as SC are thin-walled, and SD is thick-walled, and the last number is the weight of the bomb in kilograms. For example, the SC dropped by the Germans at the Brest Fortress -2500 type. That is 2.5 tons of thin-walled bombs. And this..." He pointed to the shell of the bomb with his stick and said, "Look, isn't it written SD-1800 on it, it means 1.8 tons of bombs? "Then he ostentatiously said: "The Germans stipulate that bombs under 1 ton are painted in dark gray, and bombs over 1 ton are painted in sky blue camouflage. When the bombs fall, they are integrated with the sky to prevent the bombs from being too large and being hit by anti-aircraft artillery when they fall in the air Exploded in advance."

　　 The old man regarded everyone as his students and explained the common sense of weapons in a serious manner. And I stood beside me, distraught, wondering what Lieutenant Dolnikov would do with these traversers later.