Chapter 281 The Direction of Redemption

Comrade Stalin, who was woken up from his sleep, was obviously in a bad mood. However, it was so late and being woken up was definitely not a trivial matter. Stalin, who felt a slight pain in his forehead, took the telegram from the secretary in front of him and began to read it quickly.

"Huh? How could it be like this?"

Obviously, the content of this telegram sent urgently from the Leningrad Front Command was not expected by Stalin himself. Through a series of events, he had a good impression of Malashenko, a young man who had never met but showed outstanding talents. Stalin, who was familiar with how terrible malaria, a highly contagious disease, was, saw the last concluding words on the telegram.

"Comrade Stalin, I suggest that we should immediately arrange a special plane to transfer Malashenko to Moscow, where the medical conditions are better, for treatment. Malashenko plays an important role in consolidating the morale of the front line and designing the future tanks of our Red Army. Losing him is a big loss for our entire Red Army. We must act immediately."

Stalin, with a gloomy face and a frown, put down the telegram in his hand immediately after reading this summary. He pinched his forehead and thought for a while before making a decision.

"Send a telegram to Zhukov and ask him to arrange a special plane to send Malashenko back to Moscow immediately. In addition, arrange for the hospital to prepare and use the best doctors and medicines. Malashenko must be saved!"

"I understand, Comrade Leader, I will arrange it now."

Watching his secretary's hurried departure, Comrade Stalin, who has been overwhelmed by all kinds of bad news in recent days, couldn't help but sigh deeply.

"When will this bad news end?"

The facts are just as Dr. Zhuskov had expected.

The Soviet Union, located at the northernmost tip of the earth, encounters freezing cold of dozens of degrees below zero every year without exception. It is impossible to grow cinchona trees, which survive in warm and humid tropical and subtropical climates. It is naturally impossible to use cinchona trees to purify quinine, a special medicine for malaria.

The Western capitalist countries, which control almost all the sources of quinine in the world, namely the colonies of Indonesia, simply cannot share this special medicine that can turn the tide with their mortal enemy, the Soviet Union. If the Soviet Union is completely destroyed because of a malaria plague that sweeps the country, it will be the best result that those Western capitalist countries are eager to see.

The hospital in Leningrad, which was surrounded by the German Northern Army Group from the land, had no quinine, a special medicine for treating malaria that was extremely rare in the entire Soviet Union. Even the most common medicines and medical supplies were almost exhausted and difficult to replenish.

The doctors and nurses who had been busy around Malashenko's bed for a whole night tried their best, but they only used water bags to cool down and other superficial methods to ensure that Malashenko's head was not burned while barely keeping a breath. The ultimate goal of snatching Malashenko back from the hands of death was still a long way off.

Fortunately, Malashenko, who "had died once" on the battlefield, was much tougher than almost everyone imagined. Malashenko, who was in a coma with a high fever, was like a cockroach that was invincible and could not be killed. The attending doctors on the scene were amazed that this was simply a miracle, and they also accelerated the hurried pace of transferring Malashenko to Moscow.

There were no clouds over the Leningrad Airport in the early morning. The drizzle that had just fallen last night, coupled with the unique cold wind in the early morning, made all the people busy here feel a deep chill.

Malashenko, who was still in an unconscious state, was rushed to the airport by a group of people in a hurry. In the early morning, he received an order from the front headquarters, and a Li-2 transport plane on standby here had already roared its engine.

"Quick, lift Lieutenant Colonel Malashenko onto the plane and take off immediately! After arriving in Moscow, there will be a better medical team on standby at the airport. Only in Moscow can he be rescued!"

In his heart, he had an indescribable complex concern for Malashenko, a young man who was so outstanding that he was almost unpredictable. After anxiously thinking for most of the night, Zhukov temporarily entrusted all the things at hand to Chief of Staff Huo Jin before dawn, and came to Leningrad Airport in person to see what was most likely Malashenko's "last face".

The cold wind whistling over the airport gently brushed the collar of the Red Army warrior, and Zhukov, who was anxious but revealed a firm will, quickly came to the stretcher that was half-lifted into the cabin. Malashenko, who had been in and out of consciousness all night, opened his heavy eyes quietly at this moment.

Looking at the Red Army warrior standing beside him and staring at him, Malashenko, who was so weak that he almost had no strength to speak, still tried to raise his right arm with his will.

"Comrade Commander, I am a burden to you. You have to take up the precious resources of our Red Army to send me to Moscow at such a critical moment. I really don't know what to say."

Having learned from Kirill and Iushkin, who had been with him all night, that he was about to be sent to Moscow, Malashenko, whose desire for life had been rekindled, could not help but feel warm in his heart.

There was undoubtedly only one person in the entire Leningrad Front who could order the use of an extremely precious transport plane to send him to Moscow at such a critical moment of internal and external troubles.

Malashenko, who had always felt that he was just a small lieutenant colonel, had not yet realized how significant and far-reaching his words and deeds had been on the entire Soviet Red Army and even the future strategic situation of the Great Patriotic War. Even his father, Comrade Stalin, who had never seen what Malashenko looked like, issued a brief instruction overnight.

"Don't worry, Malashenko. Moscow is ready! Our best medical team has been ready overnight and is on standby at the airport. As soon as you land there, you will receive the best treatment in the entire Soviet Union! Those German fascists couldn't break your will, so what can a little malaria do? There will be many tank battles waiting for you in the future! You must hold on until the day our Red Army enters Berlin!"