Stalin stood in front of a long table with his back to the door, leaning forward, looking at the map lying on the table.

　　 I walked quickly to a place two or three meters away from him, stopped and took a deep breath, then raised my right hand to the brim of the hat, saluted him and reported my arrival. Because of the nervousness, not only the voice trembled, but the words also stammered: "Report... Report! Si... Si...Stalin is with... Comrade! Lieutenant Colonel Oshanina is ordered to come, listen... and wait for you... Your instructions!"

　　 Hearing my voice, Stalin turned around. He was wearing a gray uniform shirt, wide upper and narrow breeches, his trouser legs tucked into his boots, and his fist was holding a pipe. After looking at me up and down, he learned my tone and said: "Report...Report! Si... Si...Stalin is with...comrade!..."

　　 Although he has a serious expression on his face, he has learned my tone so vividly that I can't help but smile, and the atmosphere in the room has become relaxed. He changed the pipe to his left hand, then reached out to me, and said kindly: "Comrade Lida, welcome you back to Moscow."

　　 After shaking hands with Stalin, I should have maintained an upright posture, with my hands hanging down naturally and my fingertips against the seam of my pants. However, because the injury of his left shoulder was not healed, his left hand could not be fully straightened, so he had to bend it on his waist.

　　 Stalin looked me up and down again, and then asked me with concern: "Lida, I heard that you were injured on the front line. How is your recovery?"

I hurriedly supported my left arm with my right hand, raised it slightly, and replied loudly: "Report Comrade Stalin that he is recovering well. It won't be long before I can take up arms and fight the enemy as before. "

　　 "Lida, come and sit here!" Stalin pulled out a chair by the table and beckoned me to sit down.

　　I can't help being flattered when I see Stalin being so polite to me. Although he said it twice in a row, I still stood still at a loss. It wasn't until he sat down at the other end of the long table covered with green wool that I stepped over and sat in the place he designated.

　　 He held the pipe to his mouth, took the matchbox from the table, struck a match, and carefully moved the match back and forth on the tobacco until all the tobacco was red. Lighting the pipe, he took a sip, spit out the smoke ring, and said straight to me: "Lida! Some time ago, we mobilized people from volunteers to form a women's group. The Supreme Soviet was discussing who should be responsible for this. Comrade Voroshilov recommended you as the highest commander of the army. Because of your outstanding performance on the Kremlin podium and everyone’s approval, this proposal was unanimously approved. When this appointment is made When I communicated to Zhukov, I learned that you have been appointed as the acting commander of the Eighth Guards Division, and at the same time I got the news that you were injured in the battle. I personally ordered Zhukov to arrange for you to return to the city to recuperate.... "

Hearing what he said, I understood why the notice to return to Moscow to recuperate came so suddenly, and the respectful attitude of the soldiers on my way back to the city and passing the checkpoint on the road, it turned out to be the same as the one in front of me. The Supreme Commander is concerned.

I just wanted to say a word of thanks to him. He has changed the topic: "You have been on the front line for so long. I want to hear your opinion. From the current situation, do you think we can defeat the Germans? ?"

　　 This sudden question made me a little at a loss. I don't know why Stalin asked me this way. For a while, I didn't know what to say, just staring at him in a daze.

　　 He stood up, took the pipe from his mouth, held it in his hand, and walked slowly back and forth around the table. Seeing that I hadn't spoken for a while, he stopped and asked strangely, "Comrade Lida, why don't you speak? Do you have any scruples about me?"

　　 Hearing what he said, my heart said that I did not care about you. If you say something wrong, your old man dragged me out and shot me in anger. How wrong I am! Although I thought so in my heart, I didn't dare to say that. I had to put a smile on my face and said, "I'm considering how to report to you."

　　 "Then just talk about it," Stalin put his pipe in his mouth and continued to walk around the table. "We chat like old friends."

Although he said this, I dared not take it lightly. After reorganizing the words in my mind, I cautiously said: "Comrade Stalin, although the current situation is very unfavorable to us, facing the increasingly fierce German offensive, Our army’s line of defense is still shrinking backwards. But according to analysis of various situations, we will not only be able to block the German attack, but also repel them to a considerable distance from the city. Where to go."

　　 Hearing this answer to him, Stalin stopped involuntarily, seeing me, his beard curled up slightly. He raised his hand and took off the pipe, and lighted a little with the side of the cigarette holder, and said, "Tell me about your reasons!"

　　 "The fascist bandits waged an unjust war of aggression, while our great Soviet motherland waged a just war against aggression. It was a war of almost all the people against the fascist bandits...."

　　 "Stop! Stop! Stop!" Stalin interrupted me and said a little displeased: "What I want to hear is your heart, not this kind of idiom that everyone would say!"

Seeing his attitude, I knew that I could no longer use nonsense to perfuse him. After considering it for a while, I went on to say: "...The fascist bandits who suffered from our army's stubborn resistance have changed after months of fighting. Tired, their crazy offensive is gradually beginning to weaken. They are far away from the mainland and fight in the hinterland of our country. They are very dependent on logistical supplies. But because their troops advanced too fast, they did not leave enough troops to consolidate the occupied areas. On this supply line of more than 1,000 highways, our guerrillas and sabotage teams have been active. It is not an easy task for the enemy to transport materials from the rear to the front...."

"Wait a minute." Stalin interrupted me again. He walked to the table, leaned down and looked at the map in front of him, pointed his finger on the location of Moscow, and then drew a dotted line westward, thoughtfully Said: "You mean that the supply line of the fascist bandits is actually controlled by us?"

"Yes, Comrade Stalin!" I replied confidently: "The fascist bandits have too long fronts, insufficient supplies, and excessive consumption in the battle. They have no defensive positions and battle reserves, and no combat in winter conditions. Prepare. Once the severe cold comes, their soldiers will have a large number of non-combat attritions due to lack of winter clothing. Their tanks and other vehicles will be unable to move because of the low temperature...."

"The analysis is very reasonable!" After listening to my analysis for nearly half an hour, Stalin stood upright in relief, knocked the extinguished pipe on the ashtray, and pointed at me with the finger holding the pipe, prompting: "Anything else to add? For example, what measures can be taken to exacerbate the current dilemma of the fascist bandits and accelerate their demise?"

　　 I thought for a while, and then slowly said four words: "Strong walls and clear fields!"

Stalin nodded and said: "The Supreme Command has long considered the method you mentioned and issued Order No. 0428. The order mentioned: Destroy and burn all residential areas 40-60 kilometers deep in front of you...immediately Throw in all the aircraft, concentrate the use of artillery and mortars, use scouts, skiers, and guerrillas... All residential areas must be destroyed without reservation... At the same time, the troops that are required to accept the task will be from November 21 to December Completed within 1 day and 10 days......."

　　 He speaks slowly, but every word he utters hits my heart like a blockbuster. Although the room was very warm and I was wearing a thick military coat, I couldn't help but start a cold war when he mentioned these lightly. This brief command means that tens of thousands of people will be homeless. Although I also understand that this is a last resort action in war, I still feel a little unbearable in my heart. There are many settlements around Moscow, which are the natural support for the German army to hide and keep out of the cold. Only this kind of impersonal order can achieve the purpose of driving the German army from the warm house to the ice and snow.

　　 "Lida! Lida!" Stalin's shout awakened me from my thoughts. I was unconsciously lost just now, and I didn't even hear what he said afterwards. I quickly turned my gaze to him again, waiting to say what was behind him.

　　 "What are you thinking?" Without raising his tone, he asked me with concern: "I called you so many voices and didn't hear him."

　　 "Nothing, Comrade Stalin!" I replied with some embarrassment, "I just thought of something suddenly, so I walked away for a while."

　　 Stalin stared into my eyes, and asked curiously: "I thought of something that would make you distracted?"

　　 Although there is no special expression in his eyes, I feel that they are warning me: Don't lie, you can't lie to me. I hesitated, stood up abruptly, gave a clear cough, and concealed my panic: "I remembered a dream I had in the morning. In the dream, I saw General Rokosovsky in danger. He The car with the other commanders of the group army was trapped by a German tank."

　　 Stalin laughed after hearing what I said. I didn't expect him to react like this, and I couldn't help but be stunned. His laughter was so loud that even Boskrebeshev outside the house heard it, and he opened the door and probed in to see what happened. Stalin spotted him standing at the door and waved him out.

　　 After Boskrebeshev went out and closed the door, Stalin stopped laughing and said to me a little serious: "Comrade Lida, it's just a dream. Don't get distracted by these insignificant things."

"But, Comrade Stalin!" I tried my best to defend myself: "The scene I saw in my dream is very real, and I have never heard of the place where the command post is. Although it's just a dream, it can't. Take it lightly." Then I told him everything I had seen in my dream.

　　 Stalin's face sank, probably because of my unsure attitude that made him change his face. He held the empty pipe in his mouth, turned his back in a circle around the place, as if thinking about whether the dream I was telling was credible. After a long time, he stopped, looked at me, and asked me in a very serious tone: "Are you sure that the place you see in your dream is a place that you have never been to, or even heard of it? "

　　 "Yes." I answered him affirmatively.

　　 "Then you repeat the names of the places you heard in your dreams and the names of the officers you saw."

　　 "The name of the village is ‘Peshki’, and the heads of the investigation team of the Front Army Headquarters are General Carmela and General Kulkin."

　　 After listening to the names of places and people, Stalin nodded gently, then walked calmly and confidently to the other end of the large room. He walked to the armchair by the writing desk, sat down, took off the headset of the telephone, and said softly: "I am Stalin."

After a while, I heard him raise his voice slightly and said into the microphone: "Comrade Shaboshnikov, you immediately call Comrade Zhukov of the Western Front ~lightnovelpub.net~ and ask if he is today. An investigation team was sent to the front line. Who is the officer in charge of the team? At the same time, please find out if there are our troops in the village of Peshki, north of the Leningrad Highway. I am waiting for your reply."

　　 Putting down the microphone, Stalin sat in his seat and did not get up. He put the tobacco in the pipe, lit it again, and sat there to smoke. And I stood there, looking at him anxiously, regretting that I was a bit too reckless. It was just a dream, but I told Stalin seriously, as if it were true.

　　 Although it only took a few minutes, to me, it was as long as a few hours. When I heard the phone rang on the desk, my heartbeat suddenly accelerated. I knew that the call I was calling could confirm that what I just said was true or a dream.

　　 Stalin picked up the microphone, did not speak, just listened quietly. Putting down the microphone, he stood up, walked in front of me calmly, and said slowly: "Lida! Just half an hour ago, Zhukov sent General Kamera and General Kulkin with him. The temporary investigation team of the Front Army Headquarters went to the front line to learn about the 16th Army’s unauthorized withdrawal of defensive areas. Their destination was Peshki Village. The chief of staff also reported that there are our troops in the village, and there are still a certain number of them. The tank. It seems that the dream you are talking about is real."

　　 I did not speak, but stared at Stalin nervously to see what decision he would make. He took the pipe away from his mouth, frowned and thought for a while, and then said: "If it is as you dreamed it, Comrade Rokosovsky will be in danger. Reliable troops should be transferred from nearby to help him. Out of danger."