Burning Moscow

　　 Before getting into the car, I looked inside the car and made sure that only the driver was sitting in it. Then I helped Bezikov into the car and sat in the back row. As soon as the door was closed, the driver started the engine.

　　As the car started, Krochkov took a step back and stood by the side of the road, watching our car leave without expression. I looked back at this person who had the same name as my first-level political instructor, and wondered if the expressions of political workers were all carved out of the same mold? Not only did they have the same name, they also had similar expressions on their faces.

　　 "Hey, I said, buddy, where did this car go?" Bezikov's voice rang around, and I looked back, he was patting the driver on the shoulder and asking for directions.

　　 "Go to the Moscow Garrison Headquarters, I'm ordered to take you there." Bezikov asked himself afterwards. The driver held the steering wheel with his hands, turned his head and replied to him while driving.

　　 "Well, I see. You can continue driving." After saying this, Bezikov leaned back and began to close his eyes to rest.

　　 Because of the special pass posted on the glass of the car, we did not stop us from checking the documents along the way, so we arrived at the garrison headquarters very smoothly. Several people had been waiting outside the headquarters building. They saw our car passing by and greeted them immediately. The driver seemed to have known someone would come back to meet him, so he stopped in front of those people. As soon as the car stopped, the garrison headquarters opened the door and helped Bezikov out of the car.

　　 After the driver stopped, the engine didn't go out. Seeing that we all got out of the car, he said hello to me, turned around and drove back.

　　I followed the soldier who was supporting Bezikov and walked to the door of the headquarters, hesitating to follow up. Bezikov turned around and saw me standing at the gate at a loss, so he called me loudly: "Comrade Oshanina, what are you standing there, come in!"

　　 I hesitated, but did not follow him in, but whispered: "I want to go back to the front line immediately, can you help contact the vehicle to take me a ride?"

　　 Bezikov listened, looked at the darkened sky, and said with some embarrassment: "It's so late, don't you leave here for one night? You know, the road at night is not easy to walk."

　　 "No," After a day of horror today, I still want to leave this place of right and wrong early, so I categorically said: "I want to go back to the front line immediately."

　　 Seeing that my attitude was so determined, he couldn't say anything, but whispered a few words to a soldier next to him. After hearing his arrangement, the soldier nodded, then turned and ran to the street. But Bezikov pushed away the soldiers who supported him, walked over to me, stopped by my side, and whispered to me: "Everything that happened today must be kept strictly confidential. You must not let anyone know about Comrade Stalin. If you’re a substitute for injury, otherwise you’ll be killed. Do you understand?"

　　 "Understood, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel. Only you and I know about this. After returning, even if Comrade Zhukov, the commander of the Front Army, asked about it, I wouldn't say it."

"I understand." He patted my shoulder gently, and said in a very friendly tone: "It's not bad to go to the front. You are a lesbian. You don't have to charge like a male soldier and be in the headquarters. A staff officer is also pretty good."

While talking, a truck with a tarp drove to the gate and stopped. The driver and the soldier who were looking for the car jumped out of the car. He saluted Bezikov and reported: "Comrade Lieutenant Colonel , I found a truck that was sent to the front line to be raised, please instruct."

　　 Bezikov walked to the driver and asked, "What is your name and what part is it from?"

　　 "Report to Comrade Commander. My name is Messat. I belong to the main battalion of the Garrison Headquarters. I am being ordered to send to the front line for support."

　　 "Well," Bezikov said, pointing to me, "This female soldier is going to the front line. You can send her off by the way."

　　 "Yes, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel." Messat replied loudly.

　　 Bezikov came over, took my hand and said, "Then let's say goodbye, and good luck!"

　　 Both the driver and I were silent and did not speak to each other. The truck drove along the street to the outskirts. After driving for more than half an hour, it arrived at Yogazabatnaya, where I visited yesterday. The driver stopped the car suddenly, and I asked somewhat unexpectedly: "What happened, did the car break down?"

　　 "No, I have a friend who wants to go to the front too. I will wait for him to come, and then send him along."

　　 "When will he come?" I looked at the darker and darker sky outside, and couldn't help but feel a little anxious. At this rate, I don't know when I can get to the front army headquarters.

"Soon, it will be there in a few minutes." As he said, the driver rolled down the car window and took out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He handed it to me and asked, "Do you smoke?" Seeing me shaking his head, he said. Gu Zidi took one out of the cigarette case and held it in his mouth. Before he lit the cigarette, I heard a voice outside saying: "Mesat, my old friend, are you waiting for me?"

　　 "Hurry up, Mikhail," the driver urged him, "It's not easy to walk when it's dark."

　　 I saw someone coming over and wanted to get in the car, so I opened the door and jumped onto the snow on the side of the road to let him get in the car first. I don't want to sit between the two men. After he got in the car, I got in the car again and closed the door.

　　 The car restarted, and the driver asked the person who got in the car: "Mikhail, I heard that you have a good mix. Have you become the captain?"

　　 "Yes. I only improved at the beginning of this month."

"Oh, I didn't expect you to improve so quickly. Look at me, we are enlisted together, I am still a superior soldier, but you are already a sergeant." Messat said as soon as he saw Mikhail. More.

　　 I couldn't help but look at the soldier next to me curiously. He was wearing a brand-new uniform and the rank of sergeant. Maybe he realized that I was observing him, and he turned his head to look at me. I smiled at him, then stared silently at the dark forest outside the car window.

　　 I don't know when it started to snow, and snow powder like white sugar was scattered densely. The truck was driving along the uneven forest road in heavy snow. The snow powder that was scattered in the sky continuously pounced on the windshield, blurring the front view into a ball. Except for the range of more than ten meters illuminated by the car lights, the surrounding area is surrounded by thick darkness like ink, making the originally desolate road even more eerie and terrifying. I squeezed the submachine gun in my hand and stared at the car window vigilantly, afraid that a few German devils would suddenly appear somewhere.

　　 "Can I see your submachine gun?" Sergeant Mikhail's voice sounded around him.

　　 I looked back at the handsome face in front of me, felt a sense of deja vu, and agreed, and without thinking about it, I handed him the weapon in my hand.

　　 He took the submachine gun, and with the help of the weak light, he looked at it carefully, and then said, "This should be the Bobosha submachine gun that has just been launched. I have only heard of it before, but I have never seen it before."

　　 "Yes, the output of this weapon is not large, and the number of equipped troops is not large. It is not surprising that you have not seen it."

"But," he said a little surprised: "As far as I know, no more than 500 guns of this kind have been produced so far. Almost all are equipped for the Central Guard Corps and the Garrison Command. Where did you get it? How about such a good weapon?"

I don’t know whether to answer or not to answer his curiosity. Fortunately, Messart helped me out in time: "Mikhail, you are still so interested in firearms. You can just transfer to ordnance to make weapons. Up."

　　 "Mesat, if I have the opportunity, I really want to work in the arsenal and design advanced weapons to defend the motherland."

　　 "Come on, you have never received professional education, and you have never studied drawing. At best, you can only draw simple sketches on how to design advanced weapons." Messart poured cold water on him directly.

　　 But after hearing their conversation, I had a good impression of the young man in front of me. I asked with interest: "What kind of unit are you, infantry?"

　　 "No, I am a tank soldier. I was promoted to sergeant at the beginning of the month and became a captain."

　　 "Then I congratulate you." I stretched out my hand and shook his hand to express my congratulations.

　　 "What is your military rank? I didn't see any military rank marks on your uniform." Mikhail asked curiously.

　　 "The military uniform is newly issued, and the collar badge has not had time to be sewn." At this point, I paused for a while before proceeding to identify myself: "Not long ago, I was promoted to lieutenant colonel."

　　 As soon as my words came out, there was silence in the carriage. After a while, Mikhail handed me the submachine gun and apologized: "I'm sorry, comrade colonel, I didn't see your rank, so I don't know..."

　　 "It's okay, Mikhail." I patted him on the shoulder and said, "A lot of things are not something who is born, as long as you seize the opportunity, everything is possible."

　　 "Thank you for your encouragement. If there is such an opportunity, I will definitely seize it."

　　 After a while, he asked me again: "Do you think there are any shortcomings in our army's light weapons?"

I thought about it and answered, "Although our submachine guns have strong firepower, they have a low hit rate; while rifles have a high hit rate, but their shooting speed is slow. If there is a weapon that can combine the advantages of the two weapons, it has a high hit rate. It also has powerful firepower and a folding bayonet. After the bullet is out, it can also engage in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy."

　　 Hearing what I said, he asked me with some confusion: "Can such a weapon really be designed?"

"Yes." I replied affirmatively, "I think it is okay." I say this is not unfounded. In the history I know, after the disintegration of the former Soviet Union, Russia relied on selling oil and advanced technology. Weapons have accumulated enough foreign exchange reserves.

　　 "Mikhail, you should have your birthday in a few days."

　　 "Yes, three days after the October Revolution, it is my birthday at UU reading www.uukavanshu.com."

　　 Hearing this date, I couldn't help being taken aback, and couldn't help but ask curiously: "Mikhail, you weren't born in 1919, right?"

　　 "Yes, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel." He asked curiously, "How did you guess it?"

　　 I did not answer his question, but continued: "Don't tell me that you were born in Kuria, a suburb of Almaty in southeastern Kazakhstan?"

　　 "Exactly correct, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel." He said in surprise, "How did you know?"

　　 "What is your full name?" After hearing his birthday and place of birth, I immediately reminded me of a celebrity I had seen at the 2007 Victory Day, and couldn't help but continue to verify his identity.

　　 "Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov."

　　 God, it really is him! The famous Soviet and Russian firearms designer who is famous for designing the "AK-47 assault rifle", on the 2007 Victory Day, I once saw him lay a wreath at the tomb of the unknown soldier in front of the tomb of the unknown soldier. It's no wonder that when I saw him just now, I felt a sense of deja vu.

　　 "Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, you haven't answered me yet, how did you know me?" He asked me curiously.

　　 "I'll tell you later," I deliberately changed the subject, "Don't forget what you just said, if you have the opportunity, we must design an advanced weapon for our troops to defend the motherland."

　　 "Do you think I have this ability?" he asked anxiously.

　　 "Yes, I have full confidence in you."