Burning Moscow

　　 I don’t remember how I finished speaking, how I walked along the aisle to the last row far away. It wasn't until I was sitting in my seat that I was conscious and shook hands one by one with the officers who had reached out on the left and right seats somewhat mechanically.

On the podium, there is already another spokesperson standing, looking at the rank of an admiral, he should be a general in a certain position, but I didn’t understand what he said. Seriously, what he said. Everything, to me, is a series of meaningless foreign language words. I am still immersed in the memories of everything that I have passed by just now. I have not yet felt the greatness that I felt after a few minutes. The sense of relaxation.

　　 Sitting in the seat, I gradually remembered what I said later. First of all, I elaborated on the concept of "exchanging space for time": the more places the Germans occupy, the longer the logistics supply line will be. In order to prevent the endless harassment of our guerrillas, and to ensure that ammunition can be supplied. When they are sent to the front line and the wounded can safely return to the rear, they are bound to draw troops from the offensive forces on the front line to protect their logistics supply line. As a result, their strength in the front is reduced, and the offensive momentum is also weakened. By the time the offensive force reached the city of Moscow, there was no longer any powerful offensive force.

Then I focused on the importance of extensively launching guerrilla warfare behind enemy lines. I proposed to reorganize the disbanded troops into guerrillas, and launch guerrilla warfare in small, unobtrusive units that bloomed everywhere, to contain the German army and cooperate with our army. Fighting on the frontal battlefield, attacking the weak defenses of the German army, making the enemy undefeated. Ambush a transport team today and destroy a patrol team tomorrow. The enemy will not have a day of peace and panic all day long, and a small victory will result in a big victory. Take the initiative of war in our hands. …

　　 A thunderous applause awakened me as I was recalling, and when I looked on the stage, I found that Stalin did not know when he had already stood in front of the podium, and he was making a summary of today's meeting. I couldn't understand what he said, and my thoughts remained in the historical conclusion that was stunned by the passage that I had just recited on the stage. In this case, I have completely lost the ability to understand Russian. What I heard was just a series of Russian sentences with a Georgian accent.

　　 As soon as the meeting was over, I, who was closest to the door, took the lead out of the door and ran into the cloakroom to get my clothes. Before I took out the number plate, the female sergeant took off my army coat. When she handed me the clothes, she whispered: "You are really amazing. You have the courage to speak on stage. Even Comrade Stalin spoke to you..." Before she was finished, a large group of officers rushed over. I took the opportunity to leave here with my clothes.

　　Although the temperature outside was very low, I just came out of the warm hall. I didn't seem to feel the cold. I just took my coat in my arms and walked across the square to the guard room at the exit of the Kremlin.

　　 There is a large table at the door of the security room. The table is full of pistols of various models. The lieutenant who keeps the guns for us sits at the table, wearing more than a dozen guards. I walked to the table, took out the voucher for taking the gun, and gave it to the lieutenant. He took it and looked at it, and then quickly found the one that belonged to me from the guns on the table.

　　 I took the pistol and put it in the holster, and buckled the holster. Then I took out the temporary pass and asked the lieutenant: "So, what about this temporary pass? Will I return it to you?"

　　 "No, the temporary pass is only valid for one day, and it will be automatically invalid tomorrow. You can throw it away, or you can keep it as a memorial."

　　 "Lida." Someone at the back called my name. Looking back, it turned out that it was Major General Cholokhov and Korolev who were walking towards me, and it was Korolev who called me. As he went through the procedures for receiving the gun, he said happily: "Your performance on stage today is really good. I didn't expect you to look at the problem so thoroughly. This time, it is a big show for our Leningrad Front. ,Ha ha."

　　 After receiving the weapons, the officers from other fronts also came over to greet me, shook their hands and said a few words. Just as I was overwhelmed, a stern voice suddenly came from behind me: "Who is Lieutenant Oshanina?"

　　 The surrounding area fell silent for a while. I looked back and the question was a colonel wearing a brand-new army coat. He was followed by two soldiers with submachine guns on their chests. They walked towards me in neat steps.

　　 "Do you have anything to do with Lieutenant Oshanina?" Major General Cholokhov, who has not spoken by my side, suddenly asked, "Who are you?"

　　 "Colonel Bezikov, commander of the first battalion of the Central Guard Corps." The colonel drily replied, "On the order of the superior, let Lieutenant Oshanina come with us."

Perhaps it was the great purge in the past few years that frightened everyone. Hearing what the colonel said, the major general immediately closed his mouth, and everyone around him, including those wearing the rank of lieutenant general or even the rank of general, remained silent. Only Korolev looked worried and looked at me anxiously, as if he wanted to talk but stopped.

　　 Bezikov made a please gesture to me, and then walked to the guard room first. I put the military coat on the arm of my right hand and followed, and two soldiers carrying guns followed me closely. As I walked, I was still thinking about it. I don’t know how my superiors would deal with me. Should I be dispatched to Siberia to dig coal, or dragged to an unpopulated place to be shot? Didn't I just say a few truths in the public, and I should be guilty of using such extreme methods to deal with me? But I am not a fool. I will not wait for death. Even if I die, I have to pull on a few pads. Thinking about this, my hand secretly unbuckled the holster and grabbed the cold one under the cover of the military coat. The handle of the gun to ensure that you can draw the gun and shoot at any time.

Bezikov walked forward along the long corridor without saying a word. I looked at the rank on his shoulder and thought to myself: The rank of this guard regiment is really high. Battalion commanders are all colonels. The regimental commander is at least a general. If I find that the situation is not right later, I first turn around and knock down the two soldiers behind me, and then shoot at Bezikov. After defeating them, he grabbed the submachine gun and rushed out. Even if he was killed by a random gun, it was better than being slaughtered.

　　 was thinking, Bezikov in front stopped, UU reading www.uukanshu.com I couldn't stop, and bumped his head. He took my shoulders and said with a gentle smile: "My dear, be careful." Before I could speak, he opened a door next to him and said, "Here, it's here. Go in."

　　 I cautiously looked in through the open door, and saw a camera mounted on a tripod in the middle of the room, and a white cloth was pulled against the wall, and under the cloth was a bench. I watched left and right for a long time. Whatever you look at here, it seems to be a camera room, right?

　　 "Please go in!" Bezikov greeted me again: "Take a picture of you, and you can leave." Then he said to the two soldiers behind him: "You stay at the door."

　　 It turned out to be taking pictures. I thought what I said on the podium just now irritated someone, and I was going to settle accounts after the autumn. I wiped the sweat coming out of my head and stepped into the room. Behind the door sat a photographer with the rank of first-class soldier. He saw us entering and got up to salute us.

　　 After finishing the photo, Bezikov took me out with two soldiers. When I returned to the door of the police room, I felt that my underwear had been wet with sweat. Seeing Korolev waiting there alone, my heart became hot, and I hurried to ran over, shouting excitedly: "Uncle Pavel."

　　 I ran to him quickly, stopped and just wanted to talk, "Woo~~~!" A sirens suddenly sounded. I looked around in surprise, what's going on, is it because an enemy broke into the Kremlin?

　　 Bezikov's voice came from behind: "Attention! Air raid alert! Everyone, go to the nearby air-raid shelter to hide!"