Republic of China: Ace Pilot

Chapter 846 Moscow Mobilization, Air Force Commander Stalin

The sky gradually brightened.

Fang Wen, who had served as a temporary technical advisor for the rocket force, had also finished his work on the front lines and was returning to the factory.

He shook hands with the Rockets' soldiers and engineers to say goodbye.

Fang Wen and Vasily got into the military vehicle and left.

Twenty minutes later, the military vehicle stopped beside the temporary runway.

Fang Wen got out of the car and shook hands with Vasily: "Goodbye, I hope your rockets will be even more powerful in future battles."

Vasily squeezed Fang Wen's hand: "We will."

"Goodbye."

The two let go of each other's hands, and Fang Wen strode towards the plane.

Soviet soldiers carried ladders over and placed them on the fuselage of the Yak-1.

Fang Wen climbed the ladder onto the plane, opened the canopy, and crawled inside. The Soviet soldiers quickly removed the ladder.

As the aircraft engines started running, a roar arose, and the propeller at the nose spun rapidly.

The plane taxied slowly on the temporary runway, gradually accelerating as its power increased.

After taxiing for several hundred meters, the plane took off and flew into the sky.

Fang Wen did not immediately pilot the plane to Moscow, but instead circled in the air, using his supernatural senses to observe what was below.

The southeastern part of Smolensk is scorched earth and riddled with craters, gaps left by rockets last night.

But now, that gap has been closed.

German troops are massing in this area.

Fang Wen looked at the Soviet troops a few kilometers away.

The rocket force has begun removing the fixed equipment from last night, presumably to prepare for withdrawal.

Last night's desperate attempt to break through the enemy lines, which held countless hopes for survival, ended in a dismal failure.

He glanced down one last time, then piloted his plane toward Moscow before German warplanes closed in.

The Battle of Smolensk is drawing to a close.

Only about 50,000 Soviet soldiers successfully broke through the German blockade and joined up with the support troops on the perimeter.

In addition, nearly 200,000 Soviet troops from the 16th, 19th and 20th Armies remained trapped within the Smolensk encirclement.

The remaining troops were demoralized, and ammunition and food supplies were becoming increasingly scarce. The best window of opportunity for a breakout was completely closed, and everyone was trapped in this cage of despair.

The only thing that gave them a glimmer of hope was the German army's actions.

Despite having absolute initiative on the battlefield, Army Group Center did not choose to concentrate all its forces to completely annihilate the 200,000-strong, depleted Soviet main force within the encirclement.

Army Group Center was divided into two routes.

The first route continued to tighten the encirclement, using artillery bombardment, attrition, and cut-off tactics to slowly deplete the Soviet forces within the encirclement and gradually eliminate these 200,000 troops.

The second route involved drawing Guderian's main armored group southward to provide long-distance support to the Ukrainian battlefield, coordinating with Army Group South to encircle and annihilate the Soviet Southwestern Front in the direction of Kiev.

This order directly changed the course of the entire battle.

The southward advance of Guderian armored groups greatly alleviated the military pressure facing Moscow.

In a short period of time, the German army lost its mobile elite forces that could directly attack the Soviet capital.

The Soviet High Command astutely seized this brief respite and immediately issued a nationwide mobilization order, drawing reserve troops from Siberia, the Far East, and major republics in Central Asia at all costs, and rapidly concentrating them on Moscow to frantically fill the troop gaps in the capital's defenses.

In an instant, military trucks and trains loaded with troops were constantly arriving on all the highways and railways leading to Moscow, with a continuous stream of reserve personnel converging on the last heart of the country.

With so many reservists arriving, a large number of facilities were converted into temporary military camps to accommodate and train them.

Fang Wen works at a military factory specializing in airburst bombs, located in the suburbs of Moscow.

There was a flour mill nearby, which was temporarily requisitioned by the military and urgently converted into a recruit training camp.

In the days that followed, Fang Wen often saw large numbers of new recruits being transported there during his spare time.

From dawn to dusk, dilapidated military trucks continuously drove into the camp.

The people who got off the train were all ordinary Soviet citizens of all kinds.

There were heavy industrial workers wearing work clothes, their bodies stained with oil;

There are farmers in collective farms, their faces turned to the loess soil, their hands covered in calluses;

There are young students who have not yet left the campus and are still immature;

There are also many ordinary people whose identities cannot be determined by observation alone.

They came from all nationalities and social classes in the Soviet Union, with a wide age range, the youngest being only sixteen or seventeen years old and the oldest over forty.

After getting off the train, carrying their luggage, they lined up under the organization of the Soviet army's grassroots political commissar.

The political commissars would deliver impassioned mobilization speeches on makeshift stages made of wooden crates, recounting the sacrifices of frontline soldiers, the brutality of the German army, and the significance of defending Moscow and the nation.

After the mobilization, the new recruits received their old Mosin-Nagant rifles and began the most rudimentary and hasty military training.

Some people don't even know how to disengage the safety on a gun, and some have never even touched a weapon in their lives, their hands holding the gun appearing incredibly stiff.

Even so, Fang Wen never saw fear or cowardice on the faces of these new recruits.

Instead, there was a silent, almost stubborn resolve.

This scene seemed familiar, just like the Red Army that Fang Wen had seen in the country.

But what was the determination of these Soviet civilians to participate in the war?

Fang Wen was somewhat curious.

That evening, the training camp ended its training for the day, and the new recruits were given a brief opportunity to leave the camp.

Accompanied by Soviet guards, Fang Wen walked out of the factory and went to the side of several new recruits sitting on the ground.

He explained his purpose in Russian.

"Hello, I'm an engineer at this factory. Can we talk?"

A middle-aged farmer with dark skin and calloused hands looked up at Fang Wen: "Tatar? No, you don't seem like one."

“I come from China,” Fang Wen replied with a smile.

The Soviet guard standing nearby said, "He is a specially appointed weapons expert; please be respectful in your words."

This identity surprised the new recruits.

Then, Fang Wen asked, "Why did you come to Moscow to fight?"

The middle-aged farmer who had just spoken, introducing himself as coming from a Ukrainian collective farm, angrily said:

"Why fight? Sir, that's not a question for us. The Germans have reached Ukraine, burned our villages, and looted our food. My wife and my two young daughters have all died under German artillery fire. I have nothing left. The only thing I can do is pick up a gun and kill the invaders. I don't ask to go back alive; I only ask to avenge my family."

As soon as he finished speaking, a young worker in his early twenties chimed in.

He was a worker at a local machine factory in Moscow, where he had been forging machine tool parts on an assembly line just a few days earlier.

“We workers build machines and weapons so that everyone can live a peaceful life, not to experience war. But now the enemy has come to our doorstep. If Moscow falls, the whole Soviet Union will fall. At that time, our factories will be occupied by the German army, which is absolutely unacceptable.”

From the crowd, a boy who looked no more than seventeen years old spoke up:

“My brother died on the Smolensk front. Our teacher told us that without the Soviets, there would be no more classrooms, no more books, no more safe environment to grow up in. I’m not afraid of death; what I’m afraid of is that when the war ends, I’ll have no home to return to. Even if I only know the simplest shooting, even if I can only hold off the Germans for one more second, that’s all I can contribute to my country.” The last speaker was a veteran in his forties who had fought in the Winter War, returned to civilian life after his discharge, and now volunteered to enlist again.

“I know better than they do that untrained civilians have a pitifully low survival rate when they rush to the battlefield. But sir, you must understand one thing. Where the soldiers lose ground, the civilians should fill the gaps. We don’t have elite tactics or advanced equipment, but we have hundreds of millions of ordinary people. The Germans can defeat an army, but they can never defeat a nation that is willing to mobilize its entire population and fight to the death to defend its country.”

Fang Wen nodded, said nothing, and turned to leave.

He was filled with emotion.

It must be said that the Soviet Union of this era best embodied the Soviet spirit.

No wonder the German army, despite having such a significant advantage, ultimately failed to capture Moscow.

After returning to the factory from outside, Fang Wen went to the canteen.

As the highest-paid foreign expert here, Fang Wen has twice the food ration of others, but these rations are meaningless to him. What difference does it make if he has more food that he doesn't like to eat?

I had a bowl of meat broth, half a piece of black bread, and some hummus.

Fang Wen sat down alone and ate his meal.

While we were eating, an acquaintance, Ivan, walked in from outside.

Ivan didn't go to get food, but instead walked quickly to Fang Wen.

"Fang, come with me to a place after you finish eating."

"Where?" Fang Wen asked slowly and deliberately.

Ivan sat down and said, "The Air Force Command would like to hear your advice for our Air Force."

"I'm not going," Fang Wen refused outright.

That's not a good place.

The Air Force General Command is the highest command of the Air Force, established just last month, and is subordinate to the People's Committee for National Defense and the General Staff.

Because of the enormous losses suffered by the Soviet Air Force during the German-Soviet War, its first commander, Pavel Rychagov, was dismissed and subsequently executed.

The Air Force Command is currently leaderless; going there would only invite trouble.

When Ivan saw that Fang Wen did not agree, his expression changed drastically, and he said in an almost pleading tone, "Fang, you have to go, otherwise we will both be in trouble."

Fang Wen's heart skipped a beat.

After Pavel Rychagov's death, Stalin briefly assumed the position of Air Force Commander.

Therefore, the person I am going to see at the Air Force Command this time is probably Stalin himself.

If it were him, he wouldn't be able to refuse.

Fang Wen put down the soup spoon, wiped his hands with a handkerchief, and replied, "Then go ahead."

Ivan immediately smiled, took Fang Wen away from the factory, and got into a military vehicle that drove towards Moscow.

Half an hour later, the car arrived at the Kremlin, but instead of stopping, it drove past it.

It stopped at the intersection of a street called Great Dmitrovka.

Ivan and Fang Wen got out of the car and walked into the street, which was only 1 kilometer long.

Not long after they started walking, Fang Wen saw a sentry standing guard at an iron gate ahead. It seemed that the newly established Air Force Command was located there.

As expected, Ivan led Fang Wen there, showed his identification, and a sentry went in to check the visitors' identities.

After a while, the sentry came out with an officer.

The man took the initiative to shake hands with Fang Wen: "Hello, I am Colonel Sergei. It's a pleasure to meet you. I have long admired your name, Mr. Fang Wen, the Eagle of the East."

"Eastern Eagle? I like that nickname, thank you," Fang Wen said with a smile.

The three went inside, and Colonel Sergei explained the situation:

"The Air Force Commander wants to see you this time. He will ask you some questions. Don't feel pressured, just answer truthfully."

Fang Wen nodded, becoming increasingly certain of who he was going to meet.

The three walked through the corridor, with Soviet soldiers armed to the teeth standing on both sides.

It seems a bit strange that the interior is so heavily guarded.

Colonel Sergei led Fang Wen to the end of the corridor.

"According to regulations, please cooperate with the inspection." Colonel Sergei's previous politeness turned into a tone that left no room for refusal.

Fang Wen nodded knowingly, without the slightest resistance.

If it were that person, it would definitely be like that. It's said that person even has a body double.

Two internal affairs soldiers wearing blue armbands came over and conducted a thorough body search.

Only after confirming that Fang Wen was not carrying any dangerous items or concealed weapons did the soldiers report to Sergei.

Colonel Sergei pushed open the heavy wooden door and gestured invitingly: "Please come in."

Fang Wen nodded and stepped inside.

It's a conference room.

In the center of the room was a rectangular solid wood conference table, on which were neatly arranged white porcelain water glasses, a stack of military briefing documents, and a black and white area map.

The air was filled with the smell of tobacco.

The meeting room was still empty. Colonel Sergei led Fang Wen to a chair next to the conference table: "Please wait a moment, the commander will be here soon."

After saying that, Colonel Sergei gently closed the door.

Fang Wen sat down, crossed his hands, and ran his fingertips over the belt buckle. The search had even checked the belt buckle, but fortunately, the belt buckle was designed so precisely that no problems were found.

About ten minutes later, footsteps were heard outside the door.

The door was pushed open from the outside, and a figure of average height slowly walked into the conference room.

The man was wearing a well-fitting dark green military uniform with a belt, but no medals.

His hair was thick and black, slicked back with scalp oil, with a slight bald spot on top, and his face showed lines left by a skin disease.

He held a lit pipe between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising from it—the very tobacco scent Fang Wen had just smelled.

He fixed his gaze on Fang Wen, sizing him up.

Fang Wen remained standing, and after a brief eye contact, he naturally looked away.

A moment later, the man walked to the head of the conference table, sat down, and placed his pipe on the special holder on the table: "Sit."

"Thank you." Fang Wenyi sat down in the seat opposite him.

Stalin, who had not revealed his identity, looked directly at Fang Wen:

"I have heard many of your deeds. I am also grateful for what you did in the Soviet Union. I have asked you to come here today to hear your views on the current Soviet Air Force. Please tell me the truth."

A simple sentence made the atmosphere in the meeting room heavy. (End of this chapter)