red moscow

Chapter 3139

Zhukov thought about it carefully and realized that Sokov was indeed right. He had only just woken up from a coma yesterday and knew almost nothing about the current situation in Odessa. Asking him to offer concrete suggestions at this moment was really asking too much. Even if he were to reluctantly speak, he would probably only be able to offer some unrealistic ideas, which would be of no help to the actual work.

He nodded slightly, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table, and then said in a steady, deep voice, "This morning, when the military region leaders held a meeting, Comrade Lu Jin submitted a proposal concerning the resettlement of veterans. I heard—this was the idea you provided for him?"

“Yes, Comrade Marshal.” Sokov did not intend to deny it. He answered truthfully: “I heard from Comrade Lukin that the Odessa Military District has as many as 250,000 soldiers to be demobilized this year, and the resettlement work is not going very smoothly. Most of the veterans who should return to the collective farms according to regulations are still stranded in Odessa. Because they have no formal jobs and no fixed residence, they have become a destabilizing factor in the city.”

Zhukov paused for a moment, as if reviewing the contents of the proposal in his mind, and then slowly said, "I have carefully read the materials submitted by Lukin. The overall idea is not bad, and there are even some highlights... but some parts are still too idealistic."

Sokov had expected Zhukov to approve of his proposal and was even prepared to be praised, but he did not expect that the other party would criticize him as soon as he opened his mouth, and a look of surprise and confusion appeared on his face.

“Misha,” Zhukov noticed his confusion immediately, softened his voice, and explained, “I think you don’t quite understand what I mean. Let me explain in detail—according to the pre-established resettlement principles, except for a few commanders and soldiers with particularly outstanding combat achievements, the rest of the soldiers should return to their original collective farms, factories, or mines after demobilization. But what’s the reality? A large number of veterans are stranded in Odessa, which not only affects the city’s order but also puts pressure on public security.”

He paused slightly, his gaze becoming serious, and then said, "If we provide jobs and housing to these people who are disobedient now, it may seem like we are appeasing them, but in reality—it will sow the seeds of a more serious problem."

"What potential dangers?" Sokov couldn't help but interject.

“Those veterans who obeyed orders and obediently returned to the collective farms or factories to participate in the construction,” Zhukov said in a somber tone, “what will they think if they see their comrades who stayed in Odessa being assigned jobs and housing instead? If they feel resentful, they might follow those people's example, abandon their own jobs, and flock to Odessa—waiting for us to arrange a way out for them. At that time, the pressure of resettlement will only be greater, and the entire system may collapse.”

After listening to Zhukov's words, Sokov fell silent. His head was bowed, his gaze heavy on the table, his heart churning with turmoil. Yesterday, he had only intended to resettle the veterans stranded in Odessa, preventing them from becoming a destabilizing force in the city, which was why he had proposed that resettlement plan to Lukin. But now it seemed he had been far too presumptuous, failing to consider the potential negative consequences, such as the possibility that criminals might be mixed among these soldiers, posing a threat to the city's security. He couldn't help but regret his rashness, realizing that he still had much to learn to be competent in his new role.

At that moment, Bondarenko, having finished his call, strode over to Zhukov. He bent slightly, leaned close to Zhukov's ear, and lowered his voice, preparing to report. Zhukov, however, suddenly frowned, impatiently waved him away, and said sternly, "Just say what you've got. Don't whisper in my ear. This isn't headquarters; there's nothing to keep secret!"

Bondarenko straightened up quickly, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, but he swiftly regained his composure and replied loudly, “Reporting to Comrade Marshal, I have already called the hospital director to inquire. A veteran who broke into the inpatient ward yesterday was supposed to leave the city a week ago to return to his hometown collective farm, but he has been reluctant to leave, seemingly having some unfinished business in the city. Yesterday morning, he robbed an NKVD captain in a secluded alley, killed him, and stole his gun and identification. However, he was also shot during the robbery and had to go to a nearby military hospital for treatment. Unexpectedly, in the emergency room, his identity was recognized by the murdered captain's colleagues. In his escape, he frantically fled into the floor where General Sokov's ward was located, but fortunately, the guards reacted quickly and subdued him on the spot.”

After hearing Bondarenko's words, Sokov felt a chill run down his spine, and a fine layer of cold sweat beaded on his forehead. It turned out that the man who had broken into the floor yesterday was a vicious robber, not only ruthless but also armed. Fortunately, the guards apprehended him in time, preventing him from causing further harm; otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable. "My God!" Asya exclaimed softly, clutching her chest, a flicker of fear in her eyes. "Luckily, the hospital guards subdued him in time yesterday; otherwise, if he had broken into Misha's room, the consequences would have been unimaginable. That man had a crazed look in his eyes, and he was holding an iron bar he'd gotten from somewhere—he was like a wild beast out of control."

Zhukov nodded seriously at Asya's statement, his fingers tapping lightly on the table unconsciously, as if recalling the thrilling moment: "Yes, if he had broken into Misha's ward yesterday, he might have used Misha as a hostage to escape the guards' pursuit. In that case, not only would Misha be in danger, but the entire hospital would be in chaos."

"Comrade Marshal!" Sokov looked at Zhukov, leaned forward slightly, and asked cautiously, "What do you intend to do with those veterans who have been staying in Odessa for a long time? Some of them have nowhere to go and wander the streets all day, which not only affects the appearance of the city but may also cause trouble."

“Of course, we should find a way to get them back to their hometowns as soon as possible.” Zhukov sighed softly, his eyes showing a sense of heaviness and responsibility. “You know, because of this damned war, many small and medium-sized cities that had tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of people before the war now have only a few thousand left. Letting veterans return to their hometowns is the best option for quickly restoring the population and rebuilding the order of life. They should return to their homeland and become part of the revival.”

Zhukov chatted with Sokov for a few more minutes about the details of logistical arrangements and demobilization policies before getting up to take his leave. Sokov quickly asked Asya to push her wheelchair to see Zhukov off, and she escorted him all the way to the villa's door.

Sokov saw a black sedan and five or six military jeeps parked outside the villa. A dozen soldiers were standing beside the vehicles, chatting quietly. As soon as they saw Zhukov emerge, they immediately stopped talking and laughing, quickly standing at attention and giving him a uniform salute. Zhukov nodded slightly and walked steadily towards the sedan. Bondarenko had already opened the car door and was waiting for his arrival.

Zhukov bent down and crawled into the car. After Bondarenko closed the door for him, she opened the passenger door and bent down to crawl in as well.

As Zhukov's convoy drove away, Asya pushed Sokov back into the villa.

"Gulia!" Sokov turned to Gulia, who was standing beside him, and asked, "I'd like to ask how many guards Marshal Zhukov has? If it involves classified information, you don't have to answer."

“There’s nothing to keep secret,” Gulia replied. “According to the regulations of the higher authorities, Marshal Zhukov, at his rank, can be equipped with thirty guards and six NKVD officers.”

(End of this chapter)