Transmigrated as the Crown Prince

As night fell on April 5, the artillery positions around Moscow gradually quieted down, and a steady drizzle began to fall in the sky.

"The shelling... stopped?!" Until more than half an hour after the last artillery shell hit the ground and exploded, in the "Underground Moscow" combat command room, Minuk, with a pair of panda eyes, still looked to the side in disbelief. Zhukov with panda eyes. The fierce artillery fire from the European coalition forces these days has tortured them so much that they even thought that the artillery fire would continue like this until the end of the world.

Zhukov twitched the corner of his mouth slightly and seemed to smile. "It seems to have stopped." Severe insomnia and the devastation of the shelling these days made his spirit even more trance-like. His whole person looked quite depressed, which can be described as a dying year. He stretched out his slightly trembling hand to pick up the teacup and took a sip of strong tea. He calmed down and looked at his watch. "Is it now 7:30 pm or 7:30 am?"

Minuk shook his head, stretched out his hands and patted his cheeks hard, trying to wake himself up. After staring at his watch for a long time, he replied. "It's half past seven in the evening."

Zhukov took another sip of strong tea. "That is to say, the German army will launch a general offensive tomorrow morning. Comrade Minyuk, please notify us and let the soldiers prepare to fight."

Minuk nodded. "Yes! Comrade Zhukov, I will inform them right away. You can also go back and rest."

Zhukov did not refuse, put down his tea cup and nodded. "I'm really a little tired." After saying that, he stood up, but felt that his whole body was weak and swaying like a deflated balloon, and he slumped on the chair weakly.

"Are you okay? Comrade Commander!" Minuk was startled when he saw this and quickly reached out to support him.

Zhukov waved his hand, indicating that he was fine. "It's just that my legs are a little numb after sitting for a long time." He held up the table and tried to get up again. He stood three times in a row before he regained his balance and staggered towards the door.

Seeing this, Minyuk was still worried, so he quickly called Comrade Zhukov's orderly and asked him to help Comrade Zhukov back.

Just as he reached the door, Zhukov stopped again, turned around and gave instructions. "Comrade Minuk, let our soldiers also have a good rest. From tomorrow on, I'm afraid there will be no chance to rest."

"Yes, don't worry." Thinking of the soldiers who were also suffering from shelling, Minuk sighed in his heart. Compared to the combat command room, which is more than eighty meters above the ground, most soldiers can only stay in underground fortifications forty or fifty meters above the ground. Even they could hardly bear it, let alone those soldiers.

Not to mention those terrifying earth-penetrating bombs that were dropped from time to time, the continuous shelling sound was clearer than they could hear, and it was easier to collapse. The number of soldiers who committed suicide and self-mutilation in the past two days has reached more than 10,000; and the casualties of ordinary people are countless. It was hard to hold on until the bombardment was over, but they only had one night's rest. Tomorrow they would go to the battlefield to fight the enemy.

"..." Sighing again, he decided to pass on the order quickly and let the soldiers take the time to rest as soon as possible. One more minute of rest is a minute!

At this time, in Stalin's ward further down, Stalin was lying on the bed, gritting his teeth and cursing Molotov. It's not that he has been scolding him from a few days ago to now, but he just asked Malenkov to find Molotov, saying that he had an important mission to entrust to him.

Malenkov's head was pounding. Where could he go to find Molotov, who had defected and disappeared (perhaps to Siberia, perhaps to Berlin). We could only truthfully report his defection to Comrade Stalin again. The result was that Comrade Stalin became furious and once again cursed Molotov hysterically. Judging from his excited expression, if Molotov were standing next to the hospital bed at this moment, Comrade Stalin would definitely pounce on him and tear him into pieces without hesitation.

Malenkov could only stand aside helplessly and depressedly, listening to Comrade Stalin's abuse, and suddenly noticed that the explosion sound from above his head seemed to have disappeared. At first he thought he heard it wrong, but after listening carefully for a long time, he really couldn't hear the explosion.

He quickly interrupted Comrade Stalin's diatribe. "Comrade Stalin, listen, the German shelling has stopped." Although this ward is at the deepest point underground, the sound of shelling is almost inaudible compared to the floors above. But Comrade Stalin's nerves were becoming more and more sensitive these days, and he would be awakened by the slightest movement at night.

The doctor said that Comrade Stalin's symptoms may be neurasthenia, but Comrade Stalin has strictly prohibited anyone wearing a white coat from entering his ward, and he also refused to take medicine. No pills or anything like that was allowed to appear in front of his eyes. As a result, Comrade Stalin's condition worsened. Nowadays, the whole person is extremely thin, as if he is skin and bones.

Stalin, who was cursing Molotov, was interrupted by Malenkov and did not react for a moment. "What stopped?"

Malenkov pointed to the ceiling above his head. "Listen, the German shelling has stopped."

Stalin listened carefully for a while, and sure enough he could not hear the sound of cannons, and an ecstatic smile suddenly appeared on his face. "Haha, the end of the German invaders has come!"

"..." Malenkov was confused. The end of the bombardment should mean that the Germans were preparing to launch a general offensive. How could it be that the end of the Germans had come? ! "You mean?"

"Malenkov, why don't you understand?" Stalin was so excited that he was at a loss. "When these German invaders stopped their shelling, it must be that the Americans have landed in Europe. Their large troops are heading straight for Berlin, the heart of Germany. These German invaders must be rushing back to defend their capital!"

"..." Malenkov's mouth twitched slightly, secretly thinking that your imagination is getting richer and richer, but he took the opportunity to persuade him. "Comrade Stalin, please drink some porridge first. You haven't eaten for a day. Drink some porridge to replenish your strength, so that you can dispatch your troops to pursue these hateful invaders later."

"Okay!" Stalin, who was in a good mood, took the porridge bowl from Malenkov's hand and drank the porridge without even using a spoon. "How can there be no vodka at this time? Malenkov, go find a bottle of good vodka, we want to celebrate!"

"Yes, I'll go find a bottle and bring it here." Malenkov quickly left the ward, closed the door gently, and breathed a long sigh of relief. However, he did not go looking for vodka. He stood outside the door and waited for two minutes. When he returned to the ward again, he saw that Comrade Stalin had fallen asleep.