Seven Hundred and Seventy-Eight Is Also a Kind of Belonging

"Marshal! The steamboat has been arranged, and the escort of two gunboats is safe. We sail across the sea at night at a slow speed, and the German air force cannot stop us. As long as we reach the other side, we will be safe." Voroshilov One of his confidants reported to him in the office on the preparations for the retreat.

He couldn't help being in a hurry, because he was Voroshilov's confidant, so he could run with Voroshilov himself. It can be said that Voroshilov's retreat was his retreat. So when he first arrived in Kerch, he detained several ships at the pier according to the Marshal's order, only waiting for such a time to be used.

The current situation is still good for Voroshilov, because after all, the German army has mobilized almost all the heavy artillery for the attack on Sevastopol, and the large-caliber railway artillery is also on the west side, and it still needs to be transported to the east. Time, so although the Soviet army's position is now squeezed very hard, there is no danger of collapse in a short time.

"Come and help, throw these documents into the brazier. You can't take these things away, so you have to leave them here." Of course Voroshilov knew what could and couldn't be taken away, for example The order documents that he and Khrushchev issued the order to flee southward with the troops into the Crimea Peninsula are all evidence of crimes that must be destroyed.

Of course, there are also various orders, which are the arrest warrants and execution orders signed by the two of them in order to suppress the army and eradicate those commanders who did not obey the orders. These orders should be destroyed as soon as possible. After all, such things are not glorious things, and destroying them is good for the living.

The confidant didn't hesitate, and walked directly to Voroshilov, picked up the documents on the desk, and threw them into the brazier one by one. Because there were so many papers, the flames in the brazier shot up very high at once. The dancing flames reflected the distorted faces of the two people, and there was a weird atmosphere in the whole office.

One after another, the documents recording crimes were thrown into the brazier, and eventually turned into charred traces, piled on top of more charred remaining carbides inside. Neither of them spoke, but mechanically threw the documents in their hands and watched them burn with their own eyes.

"Comrade Marshal! Comrade Marshal! The German radio is distributing news." An officer rushed into the office without knocking on the door. Looking at the scene in front of him, he lost his mind for a moment. Under normal circumstances, only after a unit has come to an end, will it burn the records, so the scene in front of him made him feel uneasy and afraid.

"What is it, let's talk about it! There are too many documents. We are just doing some necessary processing to avoid burning them too late when something happens in the future." Marshal Voroshilov said slowly, while saying, still While throwing the documents in his hand into the brazier.

"Ah! That's it, Comrade Marshal. The German Army Radio announced that Comrade Khrushchev, who was in charge of command work in the Sevastopol Fortress, had been killed by them. The remains found today... "The officer lowered his head and answered softly.

"..." Hearing this news, the movements of Voroshilov's hands stopped. He never thought that the old friend who walked side by side with him was really killed in Sevastopo just like that. you. They dealt with Yezhov together, and they also directed the Polish fiasco together. Although the two people have many different ideas, they are always regarded as partners. Now that Khrushchev is gone, Voroshilov has a kind of sadness in his heart.

"Order to organize a local counterattack, let the soldiers of the Marine Corps take the lead, assemble... gather 5,000 people, and regain some positions. Even... let's see Comrade Khrushchev off." Voroshilov finally felt a little sad He opened his mouth and issued a combat order. It could be regarded as revenge for Khrushchev, he thought in his heart.

In the evening of the next day, Voroshilov, who had taken a nap in the afternoon, couldn't wait to get up from his bed. Three cars were already waiting outside the headquarters. Several guards and the marshal's confidants had already All the rhetoric is ready. The marshal is going to temporarily inspect the defense situation of the port, and he will return to the headquarters when he has dinner.

With a few leather bags and documents, the group hurried into the three cars waiting at the door, and then drove towards the pier under the watchful eyes of all the soldiers around the headquarters. There are still many soldiers squatting on both sides of the streets of Kerch. These poor soldiers are holding their guns, shivering from the cold, watching their officers drive away in the car.

The battle lasted for a day, and there were still wounded soldiers on the street. The counterattack for Khrushchev's revenge had killed 2,000 Soviet soldiers on the ground, but they did not receive an order to stop. The front-line commanders could only Bite the bullet and continue to discuss how to continue to attack the German army.

While eating dinner, a front-line officer pushed open the door of Marshal Voroshilov's office. There was a strong smell of burning inside, except for a brazier that burned a lot, and a map of the war zone hanging on the wall Besides, this place is no different from an ordinary house.

"Comrade Marshal? Comrade Marshal? Do you know where Comrade Marshal has gone?" The commander from the front came to implore Voroshilov to cancel the offensive plan, so he asked the soldiers of the headquarters everywhere, trying to find the missing Marshal without a trace.

"Comrade Commander! About an hour ago, Comrade Marshal Voroshilov and several of his guards said they were going to the pier, but they haven't come back yet." An officer in the dispatch room said everything he knew : "They said they would come back for dinner, but it was obviously delayed because of something."

An inexplicable panic surged into the teacher's heart. He hurried back to the car parked at the door, jumped on it, gave the order to drive, and went straight to the pier. But obviously he was still a step too late. On the pier, he saw several soldiers who were shot dead on the ground, and several pier guards who were cursing.

"What happened?" The division commander frowned and asked the soldiers who were cursing there.

The soldier took a look, looked up and down the commander's clothes and rank, and then said bitterly: "Those bastards who are officials said they want to board the boat to have a look, and then they are going to escape in the boat. We These people didn't ask for anything excessive, they said they fled together and went to continue working for these officials. As a result, these bastards ordered to shoot and killed so many people."

The fool also knew that Voroshilov ran away by himself and betrayed the tens of thousands of defenders on the entire Kerch defense line. Looking at the undulating sea, the teacher didn't know what kind of feeling he was feeling in his heart. In the end, he turned around helplessly and walked towards his car. After all, the attack could be stopped, because the person who gave the order had already left in a boat.

Yes, he ran away, abandoned the generals and soldiers who fled with him to the Crimean Peninsula, and fled desperately alone. If it wasn't for trust, who would have come to such a dead end? But some people, for the sake of their own lives, are so unwilling to turn back when they leave.

The sky gradually darkened. On the edge of a dark beach, Marshal Voroshilov, supported by his confidants, took a few guards to the beach in the Caucasus region. For him, the Dragon's Pool and Tiger's Den in Kerch is already on the other side of the sea, and he can be said to be truly, completely and completely safe now.

There is some light on the opposite side, which is made by the flashlight swinging back and forth. This indicated that the people supporting Voroshilov and his party had arrived, so the guards around Voroshilov also began to respond to each other with flashlights. Not long after, these Soviet internal affairs soldiers with submachine guns on their backs came to Voroshilov whose shoes were soaked and shivering from the cold.

"Comrade Marshal Voroshilov?" A leading officer stretched out his hand, took Voroshilov's military certificate, compared it carefully, and then did not return it to Voroshilov himself, directly Tucked it into his coat pocket.

Some desolate people were surrounded by the internal guards who came to meet them, and began to walk to the depths of the beach. Voroshilov, who had experienced countless storms, looked at the officer of the inner guard who came to pick him up, and asked, "Comrade, may I ask the contact person of Comrade Zhukov, why didn't he come?"

"He's right in front, waiting for us to pass." The officer smiled with an unnatural expression on his face.

"Who are you? Let Zhukov's men come to see me! I'm not going anywhere..." Before Voroshilov could finish speaking, the guards behind him sensed something was wrong and began to touch his waist When the pistol was opened, the opponent's submachine gun had already fired.

"Thug! Chug!" Bullets flew everywhere, and Voroshilov's guards immediately fell into a pool of blood. Before the old marshal could recover, his body was pierced with more than a dozen holes by bullets. The hapless henchman left his marshal to run back, only to be sifted by a barrage of bullets.

Lying on the ground, Voroshilov didn't close his eyes. He struggled to use his bloody mouth to ask the officer indistinctly, "Why... why... why..."

"Comrade Stalin does not allow any form of betrayal, that's why you are being dealt with." The officer replied empathetically, "Marshal Zhukov suggested that you remain anonymous for the rest of your life, but the great leader, Comrade Stalin, still feels , for people like you, it's better to deal with it as soon as possible, so it will be more worry-free."

Voroshilov finally lost his life and lay on the beach with his empty eyes open. On February 21, the Kerch defenders surrendered to the German army, and the Battle of the Crimea came to an end with the German victory.

------------

Two updates today, don't wait any longer