This time the transfer of troops is still the same as before. Kirilov and I will follow the troops first, while Vitkov will stay behind to deal with the aftermath.

The jeep we took was not far out of the city, so I asked the driver to drive the car to the foot of a hill, and then walked to the top of the hill with Kirilov, overlooking the marching troops on the road below.

On the simple highway, a long convoy consisting of covered trucks, full of infantry and various military supplies, was swaying awkwardly, rumbling, and proceeding along the road.

With the help of the bright moonlight, I raised the telescope and looked around, then put down the telescope and said to Kirilov: "Comrade Political Commissar, although the temperature is still very low, the surrounding fields have been half-thawed. In this way, If the German armored forces want to attack us, they can only pass through this road. As long as the road is destroyed and minefields are laid, it can slow the German advancement speed."

Regarding what I said, Kirilov nodded in agreement, and then added: "Lida, the method you mentioned, I believe that Chief of Staff Vitkov can also think of. The top of the mountain is too cold, let's continue to set off. ."

I just nodded, before I had time to speak, a few trucks dragging artillery suddenly appeared on the highway at the foot of the mountain. Seeing this scene, Kirilov pointed at the foot of the mountain and asked curiously: "Did our artillery blow up all the artillery when they withdrew from Zaporos? Where did these artillery shoots come from? from?"

I turned my head and looked at the shape of the artillery that was dragging behind the car, and then said disapprovingly: "These should be anti-tank guns seized in the warehouse. That's good. With these anti-tank guns, they can deal with the armored forces of the German army. At the time, we can also reduce some unnecessary casualties."

When our jeep surpassed truck after truck and gradually approached the front of the convoy. There was a huge roar of motors ahead. In this increasingly noisy voice, Kirilov said loudly to me: "Lida, it should be the tank battalion of Major Perskin in front of me. The movement they made is really not small."

I turned my head and looked out the window, and saw six tanks that were obviously German standard. Lined up in a long line, swaying awkwardly and crawling forward. Many soldiers who wrapped themselves tightly sat on the body of the tank, covering their faces with their gloved left hands to defend against the cold wind. Invasion, put the felt boots covered with mud on the armor plate. They clenched the weapon in their right hand and watched the movement in the surrounding area with vigilant eyes.

Our jeep surpassed the tank unit. We continued to drive forward, and behind our car, there were only three trucks full of soldiers from the guard company.

Seeing only a few kilometers away from the outskirts of Kirovgrad, the driver who had been concentrating on driving suddenly sat upright from his seat, wiped the fog on the windshield with his gloves, and shouted in surprise: "Damn , What is that? Where did these people come from?"

"Comrade driver, what did you see?" Kirilov asked alertly as soon as he saw the driver's reaction. At the same time, he reached out and touched his waist.

"On the left, Comrade Political Commissar." The driver turned his head and shouted at us: "On the hillside on the left side of the road, there is a group of people. A group of women, hell, I don't know where they came from."

I quickly looked to the left and saw a group of women on a small hill not far from the roadside. They waved at us and shouted something loudly.

"Comrade driver, drive over." Although I couldn't see who the other party was because of the bad light, I decisively gave orders to the driver.

The driver slowed down. He turned his head and said hesitantly: "Comrade Commander, we don't know the origins of those people. Will it be dangerous if we drive over like this?"

"Observe the order. Comrade Driver." Seeing the driver was a little timid, Kirilov said unceremoniously: "Since Comrade Commander wants you to drive over, then drive over. If they were the enemy, they would have treated us long ago. I opened fire, do I have to wait until now?"

The driver dared not say anything, so he drove the car to the left and stopped at a spot at the foot of the mountain. Here, I can clearly see the group of women on the hillside. They put their hands on their chests and wave their headscarves. Seeing our car stopped, they immediately rushed off the hillside and surrounded our car. Yushchenko, who followed closely behind, was afraid of accidents, and hurriedly brought a group of guards who had just got out of the car, and then came and surrounded the group of women.

One of the short and fat middle-aged women shouted at us outside. Although she was not speaking in Russian, I understood it unexpectedly. It turned out that she was speaking in Ukrainian: "Comrades, please, help us."

Seeing that there was no extreme performance on our side, another tall woman without a headscarf kept repeating the same sentence: "Comrades, comrades, comrades..."

I pushed the car door and got out of the car, and was immediately surrounded by them. On their thin, haggard faces ignited fanatical joy, and their eyes were red and swollen with tears. A few women who grabbed my arm even cried bitterly. Seeing how excited each of them was, I turned my head and glanced at Kirilov who got off from the other side of the car, opened my hands to him, shrugged my shoulders, and signaled that it is difficult under the current circumstances. Ask who they are, why they are here, and why they want to stop our car.

To be cautious, Yushchenko squeezed to my side and tried to drive the women away. Unexpectedly, as soon as he squeezed in, the women who failed to catch me moved away, surrounded him tightly, and started stroking the metal breastplate on his body, the military cap on his head, and the slung on his chest. Assault rifle.

And a short, black-haired old lady grabbed his hand and kept kissing on her lips. At the same time, he said vaguely: "My dear, dear, you are our relative... After waiting for so long, we finally waited for you back, but we waited for you all..."

Yushchenko frowned at the old lady’s move, then threw away the other’s hand, and said impatiently: "What are you doing? I kissed my hand! You know I’m not a priest, and I’m not a German, so I don’t need to be so passionate about me."

Although Yushchenko's words were a bit too much, I unexpectedly did not express my position, but remained silent. Because in the early days of the Great Patriotic War, most Ukrainians chose to cooperate with the Germans, and even drove into the streets to welcome the Germans who occupied the city. It was normal for Yushchenko to react like this to what they did.

Unexpectedly, the old lady in torn clothes was shivering from the cold. After hearing these words, she straightened her body abruptly, raised her head, raised her chin high, and threw up at Yushchenko. After a spit, he said angrily: "Bah, what are you thinking? Do you really think I was kissing you? I kissed the hand of the great Soviet Red Army, because the Red Army liberated us, because the Red Army defeated I went to the Germans and came back here again. But you treat us with this attitude..."

Then she turned to me and said to me in Russian with a Ukrainian accent: "Comrade Commander, we are all farmers in the nearby collective farm. Before dark, we caught a few and fled to our village. German soldiers here. According to them, Kirovgrad has been regained by our troops, so I brought my comrades here to look for you. I want to ask who should I transfer these prisoners to?"

"Captain Yushchenko," after hearing what the old lady said, I didn't even bother to ask why they didn't send the prisoners to the city, so I immediately told Yushchenko: "Send a few people to the village and take the captured Of Germans brought here."

"Yes," Yushchenko agreed, turning his head and shouting out of the crowd: "Sergeant Lazarev!"

As he shouted, someone outside the crowd immediately agreed: "Comrade battalion commander, I am here. What instructions do you have?"

Yushchenko didn't squeeze out, so he shouted directly outside: "You immediately take a squad and follow the women comrades from the village back to their village, and bring back some German prisoners who were held there."

"Yes!" Sergeant Lazarev replied loudly outside.

At this moment Kirilov came around from the front of the car, squeezed in front of the old lady with black hair, and amiably said to her: "Hello, old man, I am military and political commissar Kirilov, what can I do for you? Is it for you?"

The old lady glanced at Kirilov standing in front of her, UU reading www. uukanshu.com then introduced himself and said: "Comrade commander, my name is Katerina, and I am a deputy committee member of the village Soviet in the nearby village of Chophia. We have prepared something for the comrades in Kirovgrad. I hope you I can accept all of this." After speaking, she turned and shouted at the tall man without a turban next to me: "Mila, give me the list we prepared."

The tall woman named Mira wiped a tear from her face, then turned her hand and walked to Katerina's side, took a document from her arms, and handed it to Katerina.

After the deputy committee member Katerina got the document, he held it in both hands and handed it to Kirilov in front of her. Kirilov took the document in a puzzled manner, and after a few glances, a look of joy appeared on his face. He turned around and handed the document to me again. At the same time, he said: "Lida, take a look, the gifts that the comrades of the farm gave us are not light." (to be continued)

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