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

Several black cars and an ambulance were parked next to the plane, and a prisoner van was parked in the distance.

Stalin, who was lying on a stretcher, was tightly covered with a blanket and immediately loaded into an ambulance as soon as he got off the plane. Then the long line of cars and ambulances was gone. Bezikov and I, escorted by the soldiers, came to the prisoner's car.

A major officer who got out of the cab of the prisoner car walked up to us with a blank face, took out the key and opened the handcuffs on my right wrist for me. Before I could come to my senses, he quickly twisted my hands behind my back, re-handcuffed them, and blindfolded me with a black cloth.

What is this for? I couldn't help but panic a little, could I just drag it out indiscriminately and shoot it? In the past few months, I have been on the battlefield almost every day, and I haven't had a chance to enjoy it, so it's not worth it to lose my life like this!

Two fighters carried me from the left and right and forcibly stuffed me into the prison car. As soon as I collapsed on the cold floor of the carriage, tears began to pour out of my eyes, soaking the blindfolded black cloth. Then I heard another thud, and it was the fighters who threw Bezkov in again.

As the car started, I cautiously shouted: "Lieutenant Colonel Bezkov, are you there?" ”

"Be honest, don't talk." There was a stern rebuke from the warriors.

When I heard the warrior say this, I immediately obediently shut my mouth.

After a bumpy ride on the road for an unknown amount of time, I was pulled out of the prisoner's cart again, and then walked forward by two people, one deep and one shallow. At the beginning, I was walking on the snow, and my heart was half cold, and I thought that it was over, this was directly dragging me to the execution ground.

Things didn't seem to be as bad as I thought they were, though, and after a while, we stopped. Then I heard the sound of a door opening, and someone uncuffed me and pushed me hard from behind. I staggered forward a few steps before I heard another slam from behind me on the door.

I reached out and tore off the black cloth that covered my eyes, and found myself in a room. There were no windows or lights in the room, and the light from the hallway came in through the fence door, allowing me to see everything inside, except for a wooden bench on the right wall, and the whole room was empty.

I sat down in a wooden chair and looked around. I accidentally saw that the dark green wall was full of dense words, so I stood up curiously and walked over to take a look. The walls are written with swear words and vicious curses, and the people who are abused and cursed, except for a few different names, are all greetings to Stalin.

I secretly speculated about the fate of these people who graffiti on the walls, and I didn't know that they were scrawny and would die digging coal in Siberian labor camps; It has long since turned into a pile of dry bones and lies in the cold grave. What will be my fate in the future, and will I follow in their footsteps?

There was a sound of a key opening the door at the door, and I turned my head to see that it was a female guard walking in with a plate. Although the light was dim, I could see a few slices of brown bread on the plate. I hadn't eaten since the morning, and besides, I had just experienced a fierce battle, and when I saw something to eat, I felt more and more hungry.

I greeted her, ready to take the plate from her hand. Before I touched the plate, her hand suddenly let go, causing the plate to fall directly to the ground and shatter, and the bread fell everywhere. I bent down to pick it up, and just grabbed a slice of bread, and before I could pick it up, she reached out and stepped on my finger again.

"What do you want to do?" I burst into tears and couldn't help but ask her out loud.

"Phew, you traitor, you don't deserve to waste food here, you should be dragged outside and shot immediately." She scolded viciously.

I didn't bother to ask myself how I became a traitor, but I raised my voice and said, "Get rid of your stinky feet!" ”

Unexpectedly, the female guard just snorted, and on the contrary, increased the strength on her feet. Ten fingers connected to my heart, and the pain made the cold sweat on my head come down.

"Get your stinky feet away!" I yelled, grabbed her ankle with my movable left hand, and slammed it up. She was unprepared, and I threw her to the ground, falling to the ground.

"Wow! You still dare to hit me! She got up, scolded and rushed up, punching me. I grabbed her right wrist with my left hand, took a step forward with my right leg, bent down and hugged her calf with my right hand, and lifted it hard. With my exertion, she spun 180 degrees in the air in a fit of rage, and then fell face down on the concrete floor.

I stepped forward, threw myself on top of her, pressed my knees against her waistcoat, and twisted her hands behind my back. She was pinned down by me and howled like a pig. As she shouted, several guards with batons rushed down the hallway and hit me in the face. The heroes don't suffer the immediate losses, so I can only let go of this nasty female guard, squat on the ground with my head in my hands, and let them be violent to me.

When they got tired, the female guard kicked me to the ground and kicked me in the stomach, so painful that I covered my abdomen and rolled on the floor, and then she scolded and left with a few guards.

When they were gone, I slowly climbed onto the bench and lay down, rubbing my wounded abdomen with my hands, tears streaming down my cheeks. I thought to myself, what the hell is going on? I was ordered to escort Stalin from the headquarters of the army group to the airfield in the morning. Encountering an attack by the Germans on the road, taking advantage of the fierce battle between the guards and the enemy, Bezikov and I desperately escorted Stalin out of danger, without merit or hard work; Even if there is no reward, you can't treat us like an enemy, right?

The lights in the hallway outside went out, and the whole room was plunged into darkness. My stomach began to protest and growl. I tried to move, but it didn't hurt as much as I had just now, so I struggled out of my chair and squatted on the ground to pick up the slices of bread that had fallen on the floor.

When I was done, I sat down in my chair and put the slices of bread in my mouth, no matter what the future might be, and I would fill my stomach now.