Burning Moscow

　　 The plane only flew in the air for a short time before landing on the ground again.

　　 Several black cars and an ambulance were parked beside the plane, and a prison car was parked in the distance.

　　 Stalin lying on a stretcher was covered tightly with a blanket, and he was carried into an ambulance as soon as he got off the plane. Then the long list of cars and ambulances left. But Bezikov and I came to the prison wagon under the **** of the soldiers.

　　 A major officer came down from the cab of the prison vehicle and walked in front of us blankly. He took out the key and opened the handcuffs on my right wrist. Before I got back to my senses, he quickly twisted my hands behind his back, handcuffed the handcuffs again, and covered my eyes with a black cloth.

　　 What is this going to do? I couldn't help feeling a little flustered. Could it be that I dragged it out indiscriminately and shot him? In the past few months, I have been on the battlefield almost every day. I haven't had a chance to enjoy it. It's not worth it to lose my life inexplicably like this!

　　 Two soldiers supported me from the left and right, and forced me into the prison wagon. As soon as I fell on the icy floor of the carriage, tears burst out unconvincingly, soaking the blindfolded black cloth. Following me, I heard a thump again. It was 80% of the soldiers who threw Bezikov in again.

　　 When the car was moving, I cautiously yelled, "Lieutenant Colonel Bezikov, are you there?"

　　 "Be honest, don't speak." The soldier sternly yelled from his side.

　　 Hearing what the soldier said, I immediately closed my mouth obediently.

　　 I was bumped on the road for a long time. I was pulled from the prison car again, and then I was carried by two, walking forward with one foot deep and one shallow foot. At the beginning, I was walking on the snow, and my heart was cold. I thought to myself that it was over. This is to drag me directly to the execution ground.

　　 But the situation seemed not as bad as I thought. After a while, we stopped. Then I heard the sound of opening the door, and then someone unlocked the handcuffs and pushed me hard from behind. I staggered forward a few steps, and then heard the sound of closing the door again.

　　 I reached out and tore off the blindfolded black cloth, and found myself in a small room. There are no windows and no lights in the room. The light from the corridor penetrates through the fence door, allowing me to see everything in the room, except for a wooden bench on the right wall, and then the whole room is empty. There is nothing left.

　　 I sat down on the wooden chair and looked around. I accidentally saw the dark green wall filled with dense words, so he stood up curiously and walked over to see what happened. All swear words and vicious curses were written on the walls, and the people who were abused and cursed, except for a few different names, were all greetings to Stalin.

　　 I secretly guessed the fate of these people graffiti on the wall, I don't know whether it is skinny and dead, digging coal in a labor camp in Siberia; or it has long since turned into a pile of dead bones, lying in a cold tomb. What is my future destiny, and will I follow in their footsteps?

　　 The sound of opening the door with a key came from the door. I turned my head and saw that it was a female guard who came in with a plate. Although the light is very dim, I can see clearly that there are a few slices of brown bread on the plate. From morning till now, I haven't eaten anything yet. Besides, I have experienced a fierce battle just now. When I saw something to eat, I felt more hungry.

　　 I greeted me, ready to take the plate in her hand. I don't know, I haven't touched the plate yet, but her hand suddenly loosened, causing the plate to fall directly to the ground and smashed to pieces, and the bread fell everywhere. I bent over to pick it up, and just grabbed a piece of bread. Before I could pick it up, she stretched her foot on my finger again.

　　 "What do you want to do?" My tears were falling from the pain, and I couldn't help asking her aloud.

　　 "Bah, you spy, you don't deserve to waste food here. You should be dragged outside immediately and shot." She cursed viciously.

　　 I didn’t care to ask how I became a spy, but raised my voice and said, "Take your stinky feet away!"

　　Unexpectedly, the female guard just snorted, but on the contrary, she increased the strength on her feet. Ten fingers connected to the heart, so the cold sweat on my head came down.

　　 "Remove your stinky feet!" I yelled, grabbed her ankle with my movable left hand, and lifted it up. She was not prepared, and was knocked to the ground by me and fell all over her head.

　　 "Wow! Do you dare to beat me!" She got up, rushed up with angrily, and punched me. I grabbed her right wrist with my left hand, took a step forward with my right leg, bent over and hugged her calf with my right hand, and lifted it forcefully. With my hard work ~www.novelmt.com~ she rotated 180 degrees in the air in a very unbearable manner, and then fell face down heavily on the concrete floor.

　　 I stepped forward, threw on her body, put my knees against her vest, and twisted her hands behind her back. She was pressed under me and howled like a pig. As she shouted, a few guards holding batons rushed over from the corridor, and they slapped me down. The hero doesn't suffer the immediate loss, so I can only let go of this nasty female guard, squat on the ground with her head in her hands, and let them violent me.

When they were tired, the female guard kicked me to the ground and kicked my stomach so hard that I covered my abdomen and rolled all over the floor. Then she cursed and closed the door with a few guards. Up.

　　 After they left, I slowly climbed onto the bench and lay down, rubbing the injured abdomen with my hands, tears streaming down my eyes. I thought to myself what was going on? I was ordered to **** Stalin from the group army headquarters to the airport in the morning. Encountered a German attack on the road. Taking advantage of the opportunity of a fierce battle between the guards and the enemy, Bezikov and I desperately protected Stalin and escaped from the danger. There is no credit and hard work; even if there is no reward, we cannot treat the enemy like this. Treat us the same?

　　 The lights in the corridor outside went out, and the whole room was plunged into darkness. My stomach began to protest, groaning non-stop. I tried to move my body, and there was no pain as I did before, so I struggled to get off the chair, squatted on the ground and fumbled to pick up the slices of bread that had fallen on the ground.

　　 After picking it up, I sat in a chair and shed tears, and put these slices of bread that had long been trampled on in my mouth. No matter what the future will be, I will fill my stomach first.