After saying something to all the colleagues present, Clark's cold eyes swept around, and from the expressions of the people around him, the experienced major general could certainly see some clues. After experiencing a series of terrible setbacks recently, he knew very well what the soldiers in front of him were thinking, or who they were afraid of:

"Other than that, for the Russians,"

Perhaps it touched the sensitive nerve of "God of Death" again, Clark's pupils couldn't help but shrink slightly:

"'Victor Rezenov', this person does cause us a lot of trouble. - But in a global sense, you should certainly be clear that war has never been a one-man performance; after several days of offensive attacks, the Russians in the Black Sea, the air power on the Caucasus line has been basically suppressed by us; even if we mention yesterday's large-scale melee, in my personal opinion, it is just a return to the Russians. Now, the south of Russia is like a decayed door panel, as long as we add another force to kick it-"

With the tone of speaking, the general suddenly raised his leg and kicked it out, and gestured with an exaggerated look:

"Hey! You can let it fall down and show its true form. - How about it, guys?"

"oh……"

With the general's speech of a bit inciting, many of the soldiers gathered in the command center seemed to have returned to their faces; standing behind Clark with flushed faces and excited emotions, the adjutant in white military uniform pinched the big-brimmed hat on his hand awkwardly. He felt that he had seen these two sentences somewhere, probably-

Yes, this is not what the neurotic bearded head of war maniac who died first and then said?

All of them would have such arrogant words. Perhaps in the eyes of Hitler at that time, the terrifying polar bear in the east was just "just a decayed door panel". But those who have a little knowledge of history know that this door panel cannot be kicked open just by just a little kick. For the "Typhoon Operation" that immediately attacked the "Typhoon Operation" in which the arrow was on the string was quite sufficient. Although NATO's pre-war preparations were quite sufficient, since he chose such a bad name...

These tenacious and crazy Ivans were pushed to Moscow by the Germans, but in the end they hit Berlin in one go?

The so-called lessons of past events and the teacher of later events; as for the current "climb-shaped offensive", it is better to change to a less auspicious operation code...

...

Late night. Moscow.

The capital of the Red Empire in the night is a white three-story building in a high-end villa area in the suburbs. The curtains of all doors and windows are closed. From the outside, it looks just pitch black, but the room is still brightly lit. Around the huge courtyard of the building, in the garden covered with shrubs, there are several KGB agents equipped with infrared night vision equipment on duty, guarding against monitoring any movements around.

When the night was getting darker and most people were already asleep, they deliberately covered up the villa where there were people moving. Several guests who came one after another had not yet closed their eyes, just like the owner of the villa, gathered in the living room to chat.

Konstantin Malenkov, the general secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, who controls the huge Soviet Union, no longer looks straight in a suit, but is wearing a faded large nightgown and sitting on the sofa, holding a small cup of crystal clear red card vodka in his hand.

Just across from the sofa where he was sitting, the long sofa or chairs were not ordinary people. The Chairman of the Supreme Soviet Presidium, Semesulov, had just finished smoking the cigarette in his hand and was talking to the bald man who took off his glasses, the head of the Soviet National Security Council, Raflynji Beria; on the side of the flue drifting smoke in the living room, the Prime Minister of the Soviet Government Alexei Kosigin raised his hand to drive away the smoke a few times, then picked up the mint water on the table beside him and took a sip.

In the living room with a not-so-large area, several important figures who control the overall situation of the huge empire have basically gathered at this time. However, unlike the serious discussions held in the conference room, the conversations here are relatively relaxed and casual, but they are equally effective.

It was just tonight that the whole day of the Soviet Building ended. Malenkov habitually called these old partners, or old friends, and had a leisurely chat in this luxurious villa left over from the old Soviet era, dedicated to senior leaders.

Of course, it is called a "luxury villa", now in this three-story building with an elegant appearance, the precious oil paintings on the wall and the Persian carpet on the ground have disappeared; in the restaurant wine cabinet, the exquisite utensils that were originally everywhere on the decorative rack have long been auctioned off by the Asset Management Committee. When we come here, Malenkov often paces around while thinking about problems, and inadvertently sees everything in the villa. He thinks that what his ex-command, Yuri Andropov, did is really right: only by staying in a simple decoration can people concentrate on thinking about problems, and not unknowingly destroy their will while wandering in exquisite toys.

Not to mention, those exquisite things that are useless can be used for exchange for foreign exchange that the country is urgently needed?

To put it bluntly, these so-called nobility are actually low-level and fun enjoyment. Only guys like Khrushchev and Brezhnev who have no ambitions and low-mindedness will be addicted to it. Even though life is short, the situation of the country is still far from ideal, but if we want to pursue some happiness in life or realize some ideals in life--

Commanding the largest red empire on the earth with its head held high, making the capitalist countries look at each other with admiration, and then tremble. This is the most meaningful and exciting career for men!

Having habitually thought of this, Malenkov felt that he had a refreshing feeling. He put down the wine glass in his hand and greeted Belia:

"I said, Pavlovich (Beria's father's name, nickname between friends), Americans have been doing more recently as many small moves as ever. I have read the report a few days ago. Is there enough staff in the third and fifth games now?"

"Ah, that's OK,"

He is serious and serious in his work. Even in such a private occasion, he sits on the rocker straight, and the KGB sword and shield badge on his shirt pocket shines. As the head of the National Security Council, he probably has developed a professional habit of always being vigilant, just like his subordinates:
Chapter completed!