red moscow

Chapter 3102

After figuring out what the captain meant by his question, Sokov couldn't help but burst into laughter, leaving the captain bewildered and somewhat uneasy. He asked, "Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, did I say something wrong?"

Sokov's smile faded, and he replied seriously, "Comrade Captain, the intelligence you received is correct. After a long and arduous series of battles, several infantry divisions under the 16th Army have indeed suffered heavy losses, with each division now having only a little over a thousand men left." He paused, then changed his tone, "However, the situation of our infantry brigade is completely different and cannot be simply compared with other units."

The captain was even more confused and pressed on, "What's the difference? Aren't they all infantry units?"

Seeing that the other man still didn't quite understand, Sokov explained in more detail: "From the very beginning, our brigade relied on taking in scattered units that had successfully broken out of the enemy's encirclement. Although these soldiers were disorganized, they were experienced in combat and had a very strong fighting spirit." As he spoke, he observed the captain's expression and continued, "And after the large-scale counter-offensive began, we directly selected captured officers and soldiers from several recently liberated prisoner-of-war camps to bolster our forces. To be honest, the current size of over five thousand men is far from enough for me. If conditions permit and with approval from higher command, I even hope to expand the entire infantry brigade to tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands."

"My God!" Upon hearing this, the captain's face was filled with shock and disbelief, and his voice rose slightly. "You're actually replenishing your troops directly from the POW camps? Didn't anyone from the army group headquarters or the internal affairs department stop you from doing this? This is a very sensitive practice!"

Sokov shook his head dismissively and said firmly, "Why would they stop us? Think about it, the larger my fighting force is, the more important the tasks we can undertake on the front lines and the more effectively we can strike the German invaders. When the higher-ups see us actively expanding our strength and maintaining our combat effectiveness, they'll be more than happy to support us; how could they possibly stop us?"

He finished speaking in one breath, noticing a hint of doubt flash across the captain's expression. Guessing that the captain might still have reservations about this unconventional method of recruitment, he further explained, "Of course, we don't indiscriminately incorporate all rescued personnel into the troops. All officers and soldiers coming out of prisoner-of-war camps must undergo political vetting and background checks. Only those officers and soldiers who have been confirmed to be without problems will be accepted into our infantry brigade's combat sequence."

"I see, I understand now." The captain suddenly realized, nodded, and said with a sigh, "No wonder your brigade has more troops than several infantry divisions combined! It seems you not only have a knack for combat, but also have your own unique approach to troop replenishment."

“Speaking of which, Captain,” Sokov changed the subject, tentatively asking, “I wonder how many new weapons the higher command will be able to equip us with next? Whether it’s new rifles or anti-tank rocket launchers, the more the better, we’ll take anything.”

The captain exchanged a glance with Bakharov beside him, then turned back and said, "The main task of the higher-ups sending Comrade Bakharov and me here this time is to investigate the effectiveness and reliability of your brigade's new weapons in actual combat. If they perform exceptionally well and the feedback is positive, the logistics department will consider increasing your supply quota. However, the specific amount that can be supplemented is not something I can decide; it depends on the equipment department's allocation plan."

Hearing the captain's words, Sokov felt a deep sense of loss. He vividly recalled that in his previous life, Yakov, who worked in the Armaments Department, always did his utmost to mobilize resources and prioritize equipping his troops with the most advanced weaponry. It was this consistent support that ensured his troops maintained their formidable fighting power. However, Bakharov, though a weapons designer, was in an awkward position within the Armaments Department's system, clearly lacking sufficient power and influence to secure the much-needed equipment he had received like Yakov had.

Sokov slowly stood up, maintaining his polite tone, and said to the captain, "Comrade Captain, please discuss the specific arrangements for the new weapons quotas with my chief of staff. Bakharov and I have been old friends for many years, and it's rare for us to meet. I'd like to find a quiet place alone to have a proper chat—you wouldn't object, would you?"

When the captain heard Sokov mention wanting to catch up with Bakharov, he naturally couldn't object and quickly waved his hand, replying, "Of course I don't object, please do as you please. You two can do as you please."

Sokov then led Bakharov out of the command post. Just as they reached the door, they bumped into Captain Bobrikov, the guard company commander, who was passing by. Sokov immediately called out to him, in a serious and clear tone, "Comrade Captain, Bakharov and I are planning to sit in that small hut next door and catch up. Go find that newly joined German translator and tell him to come find us as soon as possible."

Bobrikov immediately nodded in acceptance: "Yes, Comrade Brigade Commander! I'll make the arrangements right away." He then turned and strode away.

After Bobrikov had walked away, Bakharov looked puzzled and turned to Sokov, asking, "Misha, why do we need a German translator when we're just catching up?" Sokov didn't answer directly, but a meaningful smile appeared on his lips as he said calmly, "Don't worry, Bakharov, you'll understand when they arrive."

Sokov pushed open the door of the small hut and stepped inside. He went straight to the table, pulled up a chair, and sat down. Then he took something out of his coat pocket, gently placed it on the table, and with a mysterious smile, turned to Bakharov and said, "Hey, Bakharov, come and see what this is?"

Baharov curiously approached the table, and when he saw the items on it, his eyes widened in astonishment, almost speechless: "This...this isn't a Rolex Submariner? How is this possible? Isn't this a modern watch? How could it appear in the 1940s?"

Sokov calmly picked up the watch on the table and handed it to Bakharov, gesturing for him to examine it carefully: "Don't rush to conclusions. Take it and look at it carefully before you speak."

Baharov took the watch, examining it closely from all angles. His brow furrowed, and his face was filled with confusion. "This watch does look familiar. I feel like I've seen it somewhere before. Where did you get it? This is very unusual."

“These are spoils of war,” Sokov replied briefly, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Spoils of war?!” Baharov was even more puzzled. He shook his head, clearly unable to believe it. “This watch obviously doesn’t belong to this era. How could it be your spoils of war? It doesn’t make any sense.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Bakharov seemed to suddenly remember something, his body jolted, and his face instantly turned pale. He stared intently at Sokov and asked in an almost trembling voice, "Misha, you...you're not trying to tell me that the owner of this watch is Braun, are you? How could that be?"

“You want to know the answer? It’s actually very simple.” Sokov gestured to Bakharov, indicating that he should examine the details of the watch. “The serial number on the back of the case is unique to each watch; there will never be a duplicate. You’ll know as soon as you look at it.”

Baharov eagerly flipped the watch over, carefully examining the serial number on the back of the case. When he saw the number clearly, the muscles in his face twitched involuntarily, and his tone became excited: "That's right... this is indeed the watch I gave to Braun! I absolutely cannot forget this serial number!"

He abruptly raised his head, his gaze urgently fixed on Sokov, and asked repeatedly, "Misha, tell me quickly, where is Braun now? Is he still alive? Or has he already...?"

"Don't worry, Bakharov, he's alive and well," Sokov replied with a smile and a relaxed tone. "You'll see him soon."

"I'll see him soon?" Bakharov paused for a moment, then suddenly realized, "I remember now! Before we came here, you asked the guard company commander to find a German translator. At the time, I found it strange that we were just catching up, why would we need a German translator? Now it seems that the German translator must be Braun himself. Isn't that right?"

(End of this chapter)