Transmigrated as the Crown Prince

Fighting back the fear in his heart, Yezhov drafted a victory report to be sent to Moscow. Of course, he did not dare to exaggerate too much. He just said that after a fierce battle, they broke through part of the Polish army's defense line and could march straight in after the troops had rested.

After writing this report with beautiful writing and exciting content eloquently, he gritted his teeth, signed the bottom, and handed it to Voroshilov opposite.

"Comrade Yezhov, is it really appropriate for us to do this?" Voroshilov took the report with some trembling, feeling like he was holding his own reminder and wanted to throw it far away.

No leader would tolerate his subordinates lying to him, let alone a strong-fisted leader like Stalin; once their lies are exposed, there may not even be room for negotiation.

Yezhof sighed deeply. "Marshal Voroshilov, now we are grasshoppers on a rope. You don't want it, don't I? I shouldn't come to this hellish place." With his relationship with the leader, as long as he finds a little Stalin would not force him to do so. As a result, he ran over without knowing the heights of the world, and fell into such a dilemma.

That's true, Voroshilov thinks what he said is reasonable. After all, if he didn't come here, he would still be a big shot in Moscow who could control everything. But come on, come on, insist on seizing military power to show off your non-existent military talent, and the result is that you are now in such embarrassment.

I picked up the pen and signed my name tremblingly. After signing, I felt as if I had been evacuated and was almost unable to stand. "Then I'll leave the rest to Comrade Yezhov. I'll go back and rest for a while."

Seeing Voroshilov staggering out, Yezhov sighed again, called his confidants, and sent the report, stamped with top secret, to Moscow. After sending away his confidants, he returned to his room, fell straight on the bed, and prayed to all the gods he could pray to.

Sure enough, Stalin was overjoyed after receiving the report. He praised them both by name at the subsequent meeting, awarded them medals, and even prepared to hold symposiums in major military regions to discuss this victory. And Moscow newspapers also trumpeted this hard-won great victory.

But Voroshilov and Yezhov couldn't be happy. After all, the land captured in that nihilistic victory was still trampled under the feet of the Poles. They have to find a way to take it down as soon as possible to save their own lives.

At this moment, something unexpected happened.

The Spanish government, which had been quarreling with the Soviet Union these days, suddenly published an article in the newspaper about "illusory victory." The title of the article seems to be very ordinary, nothing shocking; the article begins with a quote from the so-called victory news in a Moscow newspaper, followed by the on-the-ground battle conditions witnessed by Spanish war reporters at the scene.

In his words, the Soviets on the opposite side were simply cooperating with the Polish defenders in fighting this battle. When the Poles were afraid to retreat, the Soviets blindly attacked and were beaten back to their hometown, giving Poland the courage to resist; when the Poles were weak and helpless, At that time, the Soviets were in chaos and wasted the opportunity, giving the Poles a chance to breathe; when the Poles were ready to fight, the Soviets washed their faces and came forward again.

If the situation in the rear of the Poles had not been tense, with their virtue, let alone breaking through the Polish defense line, it would not have been impossible for them to be annihilated by the entire army.

At the end of the article, the article satirized Stalin in a very humorous and sarcastic tone, mocking him as the stupidest leader in Russian history. He was fooled by his subordinates and still wanted to be awarded a medal.

Although there is no Soviet embassy in Spain, there are still consulates. The chief consul was really surprised when he saw the newspaper and immediately sent the contents of the newspaper back to the domestic diplomatic department. Although Foreign Minister Molotov found it incredible after receiving the report, he still did not dare to delay and hurried to the Kremlin to see Stalin. He was in such a hurry because of his own selfishness. His relationship with Yezhov was not very good, and he usually disliked him. Now that the news is confirmed, Yezhov will be doomed.

As soon as he entered the Kremlin, he met Stalin's personal secretary and quickly stopped him. "Comrade Anatoly, where is Comrade Leader now? I have something urgent to report to him."

Anatole looked troubled. "Comrade Minister, the great leader is having his meal, and you know he doesn't like to be disturbed at this time."

"I know, I know. But this matter is extremely urgent and cannot be delayed!" Molotov took out the telegram from his bag anxiously and handed it to Anatoly. "Look at it?!"

Anatole waved his hand hastily. "Comrade Minister, how can I read these documents? This is against the rules. Since you said it is an important matter, then I can ask for instructions, but if Comrade Leader does not receive you, then there is nothing I can do."

Molotov nodded hastily. "please."

The two came to Stalin's office. Anatoly signaled to wait here for a while, knocked on the door gently, opened the door and walked in.

After a while, the door opened again, and Anatoly inside the door signaled to Molotov that he could enter.

Molotov nodded to him to express his gratitude and walked quickly into the office. Anatole took him to another small dining room connected to the office.

Stalin, who was chewing sausages, saw Molotov walking in. He raised his fork and pointed at the chair opposite, motioning for him to sit down. He ordered kindly after swallowing what was in his mouth. "Prepare a breakfast for our comrade Vyacheslav."

"Yes." Anatole bowed and exited the small restaurant. Molotov couldn't wait to mention his purpose. "Great Comrade Leader, something big has happened!"

"Oh? What's the matter?" Starlin seemed to be in a good mood. He took a sip of porridge calmly before asking slowly.

Molotov respectfully handed the telegram to Stalin. "Please take a look."

"What is this?" The expression on Stalin's face did not change much at first. Halfway through, his expression gradually became serious. At the end, the muscles on his face trembled unnaturally a few times.

Putting down the fork in his hand and thinking for a while, Starlin asked. "Comrade Vyacheslav, what do you think of this matter?"

"..." This is a question for Molotov. He is not clairvoyant, so how can he know what is happening on the front line? After hesitating for a moment, he spoke cautiously. "Comrade Leader, there is a saying in the Ming Dynasty that 'it is better to believe what is there than what is not'. Although these Spaniards are very hateful, I don't think they will make something out of nothing." The best evidence is the 560 tons of gold. However, this matter has become a taboo topic in the Kremlin, and he will not be stupid enough to reveal Stalin's nerves a few times.

At this time Anatole brought in a breakfast, and Stalin gave him instructions. "Let Comrade Mikhail come here." Mikhail is his captain of the guard, and can be said to be one of the people he trusts most.

After a while, a young man in his thirties walked in. Although he was not wearing a military uniform, it was easy to tell from his straight waist and capable walking posture that he had a reliable and trustworthy temperament.

The young man saluted Stalin. "Leader, what are your orders?"

"You take a team of people to the front line to see if Yezhov's report is true. If he lied..."

Stalin tapped his fingers lightly on the table, thinking about something, and then gave the order after a long while. "Bring him and Voroshilov here and go."

"Yes!" The young man saluted again, turned and left.