Burning Moscow

Section 35 Inspection Frontline

In the next few hours, although I was sitting in a tent attending meetings, I was absent-minded. By convention, every time I am not concentrated, my Russian listening will almost automatically return to zero.

I watched in a daze at the cavalry commander and Colonel Porosuhi taking turns to stand up and speak. Zhukov and Rokosovsky explained their views after they finished their speeches. What they said reached my ears and turned into a string of meaningless foreign language words.

When Major General Panfilov stood up to speak, I finally refocused. This old man from Central Asia and West Asia, with a beard of Rendan, looked particularly like a Japanese pirate. This brought up my interest in him, and he could barely understand what he said. He said slowly: “…I The division is vibrant. There are 15,000 people there. It is composed according to the old establishment. The commanders are all selected. The political workers are all activists in Kazakhstan. We are going to fight!…”

His speech soon ended, and I was a little absent-minded again, staring at his particularly nasty moustache, wondering if the one in front of me was not a major general of the Soviet army, but a fierce Japanese pirate, would I? He directly took out the pistol and fired a shot directly at his head.

“Lida!” It seemed that someone was calling my name. I looked around but didn’t find the speaker. “Lida!!” Zhukov’s voice came over clearly, and I came back to my senses. It turned out that this comrade general was calling me, “Lida, what are you talking about, we should set off.” He said. He said with some irritation, then stood up and shook hands with Rokosovsky who stood up at the same time and said goodbye.

Zhukov and I walked out of the tent, followed us out, and Colonel Porosuhi. I looked at him in surprise and thought: What is he doing with us?

Just when I was guessing wildly, Zhukov, who was already sitting in the car, poked his head out of the car window and said, “Colonel Polo Suhi, get in the car and go. Take us to your defense line.”

After hearing this, I hurriedly opened the door of the car and asked Colonel Polo Suhi to get in the car. He actually said very politely: “My dear, how can I get in the car first? You are a lady, or you should please please!” Since he said that, I was not polite, and went straight into the car. After sitting down, he moved his body to the other side to make room for him. After he got into the car, he sat down next to me and closed the door.

Under the guidance of the colonel, the car quickly drove to a position nearby. Through the car window, I saw many people in casual clothes in the trenches digging for fortifications nervously. As soon as we got off the car, a lieutenant colonel climbed out of the trench and ran to meet us. A salute came in front of us and loudly reported to Zhukov: “Comrade General, the 230th Preparatory Training Group guarding the position is all Muscovites.”

Zhukov looked around, then raised his voice and said loudly, “Hello, Muscovites!”

Hearing his voice, everyone stopped their work, turned their eyes to him, and replied neatly: “Hello! Comrade General.”

Zhukov was walking along the trenches with us, looking at the combatants in civilian clothes in the trenches, he asked as he walked, “Where did these personnel come from?”

Hearing his question, the lieutenant colonel hurriedly stepped forward and introduced him: “Mainly workers from the sickle and hammer factory.” He pointed to the nearest soldier and said, “This is the Grigriev engineer. “The old man standing in the trench heard the lieutenant colonel introducing himself to the senior commander, taking off the reading glasses on the bridge of his nose with his hands, and greeted Zhukov in an ordinary tone: “Hello! Comrade General.”

“Hello!” Zhukov nodded to him and continued to walk.

“This is a senior electrician in the factory.” Following the introduction of the lieutenant colonel, a middle-aged man standing in the trench carrying a shovel came and stood at attention, and said respectfully in an excited tone: “Hello, Comrade General.”

“These are the workers in the sand foundry workshop, and they are also from the sickle and hammer factory.” The soldiers stood up and looked at the general who walked in front of them with reverent eyes.

“This is Paplov and his son.” When the lieutenant colonel introduced the father and son soldiers, the young man flushed with excitement and looked up at us. But the father lowered his head a little uneasily.

Zhukov stopped, squatted down, and asked the old man with interest: “Is my ancestral home from Moscow?”

“Exactly correct, Comrade General!” Zhukov’s approachability dispelled his nervousness. He raised his head and looked excitedly at the commander-in-chief general in front of him.

“How’s your mood?” Zhukov continued to ask.

“Full of fighting spirit, Comrade General! But,” he said, looking at his son next to him with some embarrassment, he hesitated: “It’s the squad leader just now, who wants to drive us old men away. Look at this. This……”

“Who is this?” Zhukov turned off the subject and pointed at the young man next to him. I couldn’t help but want to laugh. Zhukov asked if he knew it. The lieutenant colonel had already introduced us to Paplov and his son. He must be his son next to him.

The old man turned his head and looked at his son who was embarrassedly touching the back of his head, and proudly replied, “My son Paplov, he just got promoted today and became a superior soldier.” After speaking, he paused for a while, and then a little embarrassed Said: “But you see, I still…or…”

“Hahahahaha!” Zhukov laughed loudly. Although the old man didn’t finish his words, he already understood what the old man meant. He patted him on the shoulder and said, “It’s okay, old man, wait until the battle is over. You are a sergeant, and I personally take care of this.”

After saying this, Zhukov stood up and continued to move forward. I heard the old man in the trench say to his son triumphantly: “Have you heard? Sergeant, this was spoken by Comrade General.”

“What flag is that?” After walking not far forward, Zhukov suddenly stopped and asked, pointing to a banner in the trench ahead. I looked in the direction of his fingers. It was a dark brown double-headed eagle flag, which didn’t look like the Soviet army flag.

“Comrade General, that was the banner of the Moscow militia in 1812,” Hearing Zhukov’s question, Colonel Porosuhi hurriedly stepped forward and leaned close to him to explain: “It was from the Porokino War Museum this morning. Brought it, I want these glorious flags to bless them.”

“Well, that’s a good idea.” Zhukov nodded in agreement and said, “I hope it can bring luck to the troops in battle.”

After inspecting the position Zhukov shook hands with Colonel Porosuhi to bid farewell. But I saw the colonel cast a glance at Zhukov, and a look of nervousness flashed in his eyes. But I quickly denied myself: I must have been dazzled. The colonel is not the first person to go to the battlefield. He shouldn’t show this kind of fear.

Colonel 　　 made an unexpected gesture, as if to keep Zhukov, and confirmed his actions with the following words. “I can…beg you, Comrade General,…can you promise me a request?” I began to despise him in my heart. Does he want to ask Zhukov to transfer him to the rear so that someone else can command this army? With Zhukov’s character, it is impossible to agree to him.

“Did you…have any problems?” Zhukov’s tone was harsh, and his address changed from “you” to “you”.

“A soldier gets married tonight,” the colonel hesitantly made his request: “I hope you can stay for the wedding.”

“The soldiers get married?!” Zhukov asked in surprise. Hearing what he said, I was also surprised. Before the battle was about to start, there were soldiers who were going to get married. Will Zhukov agree?

“It’s an Azerbaijani fighter,” the colonel was afraid that Zhukov would interrupt him, so he continued: “There is a company of Azerbaijanis in the division. They all followed you in Nomonkan back then, and they taught me hard Jap……”

“Understood.” Before the colonel finished speaking, Zhukov readily agreed: “Since they are all old Japanese comrades who have fought together in Nomonkan. Then, I must attend this wedding.”