I'm confused. How many people in this army can guess the inside story of this incident?

An hour ago, I would have thought it was a deliberate pretend. They pretended to be indignant and ignorant of the seemingly stupid orders of Generalissimo Viladimore, when in fact they knew everything and were only hiding it from others......

And now...... What I'm pretty sure of is that these guys really don't know.

As I left the commandant's office and headed for the airport, I met Magyar, Slavik, Lavaevsky, Vanka, and Char (after the Pentagon victory, Mosvenk was promoted). At his request, Char was also transferred. On the surface, Char was demoted from battalion commander to company commander. For some reason, the rank of the Storm Team seems to be a lot higher than that of ordinary troops).

Except for Char, I can be sure that the word "I don't know" in everyone else's "I don't know why Comrade Viradimo suddenly gave such an outrageous order" is from the bottom of his heart. It's Char, I'm not sure, if he's pretending not to know.

Many years later, when I talked about it again, Mosvenck asked me if I knew the underlying reason for it, and I replied:

"The raid on the Pentagon was in itself a decision of our own making. However, no one could have imagined that they could achieve significant results.

But this is not surprising. Before I arrived at your troops, I listened to Comrade Lomanov talk about you and call you the most difficult person in the coalition forces. Obviously, I was sent to you so that I would be able to retreat.

But I clearly didn't give up. In order to make me aware of the difficulties, and to solve your stunned youth, Lomanov decided to send you to raid the White House. Ah, don't think it's strange that such a thing should theoretically be ordered by your immediate superior, not Lomanov, right?

But it is clear that Villadimo knew what Lomanov was thinking, which is why Villadimo did not give us the relationship that helped us from the beginning. We are outcasts, outcasts who can be disneeded at any time after causing great chaos to the enemy. In any case, our attack on the White House is unlikely to be victorious. Of course, this is not a big deal for Lomanov, he just needs to occupy Washington.

So the variable is that we, the outcasts, have the ability to judge ourselves. Instead of attacking the inaccessible White House, we did not run away, but attacked the Pentagon. In a sense, what we have achieved now is even more significant than the capture of Dugan.

So as a result, Villadimo steals chickens and rice, which invisibly inflats our value; And Lomanov is happy to see it. In his opinion, our defeat is the loss of hundreds of soldiers with a little higher combat effectiveness; Now that we have won, it is better. He has acquired very good weapons, and he has also gained a reputation for knowing people and doing his job, and we have gained honor and power, as if everything is beyond criticism.

But in this way, it is Villadimo who suffers. He realized that the act of giving us small shoes not only did not succeed in harming us, but also greatly increased our value.

As the commander of the coalition forces for many years, in communism and even in the Third World as a whole, Viladimore's prestige was even higher than that of Lomanov. But he was not the leader of the nation, and in the long run, Villadimore's power would shrink dramatically as more decorated and good commanders appeared that were not under his control. ”

Of course, when analyzing these things to the stunned Mosvenck, it was all an afterthought. Rather than explaining this to everybody and then mobilizing everyone to fight with Villadimo and Lomanov, all I can think of is to deal with reality.

"Comrade Commander doesn't seem to have relented. In the meantime, Comrade Magyar, with you as commander temporarily, urgently assemble our troops," I ordered to Deputy Captain Magyar, "and. Talk to the newspaper seller downstairs...... Keep a copy of the newspaper I ordered tomorrow and send it to me. ”

……

September 1, 1970, 0:00. It took only an hour for the soldiers, scattered throughout Moscow, to successfully assemble at the airfield. Maybe it's a bit of a rush, but considering it's a holiday time, or in the middle of the night, an hour is almost a blast.

Looking at the tired faces, I really didn't know what to say to them. Let's go to Miami in this state, I don't think it's too much different from sending us to death.

But the military order is like a mountain. And...... This time it is also necessary to win pretty. If I'm not mistaken, as long as we win this time, we should be able to get more people's attention......

In fact, the most important thing is...... No matter how many lives are taken, as long as you can get the attention of "that comrade", no matter what, it will be worth it. Although I am not sure of his existence, I guess it is not far from ten.

"I know you're physically and mentally exhausted, and I know you're afraid. But we're the Storm Group! We are an army that has done miracles! Magyar is still shouting hoarse mobilization slogans. I really admire his drive, he was dragged up in the middle of the night, and he can still be so vigorous.

I nudged him. Seeing that it was me, Magyar saluted me and stepped aside.

Looking at the more than 300 people under the plane door, I felt a sense of nervousness for no reason.

I think of my ancestors. Standing on the balcony of the King's Bedchamber in the palace of the city of the same name as me, I beckoned to the people below.

This will not work. I told myself that there were only 300 people in front of me, and I couldn't be nervous.

Compared to the journey of 10,000 miles, this is the first step.

I swallowed, cleared my throat, and as I spoke, a clear voice echoed through the audience.

"Comrades! I'm sorry for gathering you all this time," I bowed to everyone, sparking a heated discussion, "To be honest, I'm tired too. I'm angrier than you are. Until three minutes ago, I was cursing the person who gave the order, complaining about the sweet dream of the soup. ”

Some let out a hoarse and nervous snicker, and others whispered, wondering why the commissar's style was so different.

"But I figured it out. There is no other reason but one: we are too strong," a sneer crossed my lips, and a conclusion came that would have made Marshal Villadimore, if he had been there, jump to his feet in anger, "At this moment, in order to liberate Miami, there is no more suitable and competent unit on the front than us.

Of course. I don't deny the fighters in New York, in Washington, in the Caribbean, in Texas and New Mexico. They have also achieved extraordinary achievements for the liberation of millions of oppressed people. But what we all know is that the imperialists are still strong. Not long ago, these imperialists launched a counterattack in New York, where the fighters were at a stalemate. And the 3 million fighters on the front line, they need miracles. Only the repetition of the unparalleled miracle of war on the filthy corpses of the imperialists, as in the case of the Pentagon, can inspire the already vulnerable oppressed to resist and make them realize that the only military superiority that the imperialists can boast of does not exist today.

So, who will sow and fertilize such a miracle flower? Why not the rest of the soldiers on the front line? For no other reason than the person responsible for guiding us in planting the seed, our dear leader, who knows that we are the only ones! In order to accomplish this great feat! ”

There was an exclamation from below, and only Mazar and Makarov were covered with black lines. Are you scared by my braggadocio that my face doesn't change and my heart doesn't beat, right?

"As for the specific task, I won't tell you, it's too easy; I wouldn't say that this was a dangerous operation. I will only tell you that the superiors chose us because they firmly believed that only we could achieve a heavy blow to the imperialists! Comrade Lenin once said that for the oppressed we have only two paths: victory and death! But death does not belong to our class, it does not belong to socialism! ”

"Death does not belong to socialism!" The shouts from the audience rushed straight into the dark night sky.