Chapter 244
Yuri didn't like early spring in Moscow, yes, he never liked it.
If Moscow is extremely cold in winter, then early spring is chilly, especially when it is drizzling, the chilly feeling can even be bone-chilling.
In front of a villa building on the shore of Lake Chalijino, a brand new military jeep slowly stopped on the cobblestone path outside the jungle. Arseni got out of the car first and opened the back door for Yuri. When he saw that he had landed firmly on his feet , he handed him the military cap in his arms.
"This damn weather." Yuri held his hands in front of his face and blew a breath into his palms. Then he took the military cap and put it on his head. "Wait for me in the car. Oh, and bring me my briefcase."
Arseni hurried around to the other side of the car and took the briefcase that Yuri brought this time.
The continuous rain had just stopped not long ago, and the cobblestone path was a bit slippery. Yuri walked towards the main entrance of the villa at a steady pace in his high military boots. The two guards guarding the main entrance saluted as he passed by, with no intention of stopping him.
However, just as Yuri stepped onto the stairs and was about to reach the door, he saw three people walking out. The first one was a slightly plump man wearing a French gray shirt. In the upper left chest pocket were two pens with shiny pen holders.
"Hello, Comrade Georgy Maximilianovich," Yuri hurriedly stopped, turned sideways to make way for the door, and said with a smile.
"Ah, it's Comrade Yuri Arispovich," the man looked at him, a smile appeared on his plump face, and then he stretched out his hand and asked, "When did you return to Moscow?"
"Less than half an hour," Yuri said with a smile, "The situation on the front line is a bit tense, mainly in the direction of the 1st Belorussian Front, and we need to redeploy some reinforcements. I heard that Comrade Nikita Sergeyevich happened to be in Moscow, so I came to ask him for help."
"Is the situation serious?" The white fat man restrained the smile on his face and asked seriously. Looking at his expression, one would think that he was very concerned about the fighting on the front line.
"It's not serious," Yuri smiled.
"That's good," a smile appeared on the fat white man's face again. The way he could switch expressions so freely was really admirable.
"Oh, yes, let me introduce you." As if he suddenly remembered something, the fat man turned around and pointed to a young couple following behind him, and said with a smile, "This is my daughter, Volya."
"Hello," Yuri extended his hand and shook hands with the girl who looked to be in her early twenties.
The girl obviously looks different from her father, at least she is not that fat. Her little face looks very delicate, and most importantly, her skin is very white, which gives her a beautiful feeling.
Don't get me wrong, Yuri is not interested in this girl. Even if he is interested, he will not provoke her, because the girl's name is Volya Georgievna Malenkova, and the "old man" standing in front of her is Comrade Malenkov.
"Hello, Comrade General," Volya's personality is a bit like her father, very introverted and low-key.
"This is little Schamberg, Vladimir Mikhailovich Schamberg," Malenkov pointed to the young man next to his daughter and said with a smile.
"Hello," Yuri took the initiative to extend his hand and shook hands with the tall and handsome young man.
He had heard of this young man, but this was the first time he met him. The reason he had heard of him was because he was Malenkov's future son-in-law.
Just a while ago, Malenkov was planning to get his daughter Volya engaged to this little Schamberg, and he even went to ask Comrade Stalin for permission. As you can imagine, he was scolded by Stalin and had to let the matter go in shame - it was war time, and the country was in crisis, and he was still thinking about getting his daughter engaged. It would be strange if he didn't get scolded.
In fact, this was the second time Yuri had heard the names of the young couple. The first time was somewhat profound in his memory because he heard it from Beria, who was still pursuing Volya at the time.
The past came into my mind in an instant, and when I think back on it now, it seems like it happened yesterday.
"Okay, I won't bother you anymore. Go in quickly," Malenkov said with a smile after Yuri had a brief conversation with Schamberg. "Comrade Nikita hasn't been in good health recently. Haha, I hope you can make him happy."
Is this a blatant mockery?
Yuri muttered to himself, but always had a faint smile on his face.
Watching Malenkov and the other two walk away, Yuri rubbed his right cheek, shook his head slightly, turned and walked into the main gate of the villa.
This villa on the shore of Lake Tsaritsyno did not belong to Khrushchev. It was an official residence and part of the Bolshevik Party's property. It was just allocated to Khrushchev for his residence. The guards and service personnel in the villa were all civil servants who received state salaries .
The heating in the villa was very hot. When Yuri walked into the hall, he saw Khrushchev, with a ruddy face, making a phone call in the corner of the living room. He was wearing a gray bathrobe and a pair of slippers. A section of his hairy calves was exposed outside the hem of his bathrobe.
Yuri felt like laughing. No wonder Malenkov had made such an undisguised mockery just now. This comrade, the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Ukrainian Party, was too uncouth. When someone came to visit him with his daughter and future son-in-law, he would just wear this to entertain the guests?
Seeing Yuri coming in from outside, Khrushchev raised his right hand holding a cigarette and waved at him, then pointed at the sofa in the middle of the living room, meaning that he should sit there by himself as he still had to make a call.
Yuri was not polite either. He took off his military cap and tucked it under his armpit, then walked straight to the sofa and sat down. Seeing a fruit plate on the coffee table in front of him, he picked up an orange the size of an .
I don't know who Khrushchev was talking to. I guess the other party didn't do something well and was scolded by him. After about four or five minutes, he hung up the phone and walked towards the sofa.
"How many Germans are still in the several POW camps in Smolensk?" Sitting down next to Yuri, Khrushchev bent down and dragged the ashtray on the coffee table over, flicked the ashes, and seeing that Yuri was still peeling the orange, he frowned, reached out to take the half-peeled orange and threw it directly into the ashtray.
"This is too sour," Khrushchev said with a smile, reaching out from under the coffee table and taking a new fruit plate and placing it in front of Yuri, "It's for those annoying guys just now. Try this. It's sent by the Turks. It's very good. You can take some with you when you leave."
Yuri threw his cap aside and picked up a large orange. He peeled the orange and said, "There are 140,000 prisoners in the 12 prisoner-of-war camps built a month ago. Some of them have been transferred to the Urals. There should be about 70,000 to 80,000 prisoners now."
Khrushchev seemed satisfied with this answer. He raised his hands, rubbed them on his face, and said, "Then don't continue to transfer them for the time being. Well, the Ministry of Internal Affairs will take over the prisoner-of-war camp there soon."
Yuri felt a little surprised and looked at him in confusion.
Khrushchev saw his confusion, but did not explain. He just reached out and took a newspaper from the side and threw it directly on the coffee table in front of him: "Comrade Stalin is very dissatisfied with the reports of some Western media, so he plans to organize some international journalists and military observers from various countries to go to the prisoner-of-war camp to take a look."
The newspaper was a photocopy of The Washington Post. Yuri took a look and found that the headline on the front page was an article written by a man named Bob Soltz. The general content was that the Soviet Red Army exaggerated the results of the Battle of Belarus, claiming that the Soviet army was not capable of conducting such a large-scale operation, let alone annihilating such a large German army in a single battle.
Looking at this report that lists a lot of data and analyzes it in an orderly manner, Yuri thought of what he knew in his previous life. It seems that in his previous life, after the Battle of Belarus, Western countries did not believe that the Soviet Red Army had achieved such a great victory, and voices of doubt were everywhere. In order to prove this to the world, Stalin even organized a grand parade of Moscow prisoners of war, dragging tens of thousands of German prisoners of war to Moscow for a parade, which shocked the world.
"If we organize reporters and military observers to go to the prisoner-of-war camp, the effect may not be very good," Yuri thought for a while and decided to bring the sensation in his previous life to this world. After all, he was the main planner of this battle. The greater the sensation, the more benefit he would benefit.
"Oh?" Khrushchev put out his cigarette and looked at him in confusion.
"Why not drag those prisoners of war to the streets of Moscow and parade them in disgrace," Yuri said with a smile, "This will not only allow those Western journalists to see the real situation, but also inspire people."
Khrushchev paused in pinching out his cigarette, his eyes fixed on Yuri's face, as if he was imagining such a scene.
"It will be a grand scene," Yuri added, "We can divide the captured Germans into several squares, and place the captured generals in the first square, followed by the officers' square, and finally the soldiers' square..."
Khrushchev's eyes began to show excitement, and it became more and more obvious. Before Yuri finished speaking, he laughed and stood up from the sofa: "This is a genius idea, haha, Comrade Stalin will like it, no, everyone will like it."
As he said this, he turned and walked quickly towards the phone.
Are you going to call Stalin?
Yuri shook his head helplessly, thinking that this old guy was really rude. That was his idea.
