Chapter 120:
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Chapter 120
“…Farewell, comrade…”
Borosilov caressed the coffin covered with the red Soviet flag.
A thick tear dropped and wetted the banner.
The most beloved general.
He was always the first to charge into the battlefield, and he understood and loved his soldiers. Budenny was no more.
Countless people mourned him.
Tens of thousands of people gathered to bid him farewell for the last time.
Those who had once been his soldiers, those who had lived in the regions he had liberated, and those who had admired him without ever meeting him.
The funeral held in the Red Square was full of people wearing black clothes.
Each holding a white flower in their hand, they paid their respects in front of Budenny’s coffin.
People who collapsed and sobbed in front of the coffin, people who looked up at the cloudy sky and swallowed their grief. Such crowds lasted for hours.
The Soviet army could not even find his body.
They searched the vast plains of Belarus thoroughly, but Budenny never returned.
Novonsu probably met his end with the horse he loved so much. Borosilov choked as he read the eulogy.
“Mommy… where is grandpa? Why isn’t grandpa coming…?”
A young child asked in a lisping voice, cuddled in his mother’s arms.
The mother just shook her head and hugged the child tighter.
Budenny’s young grandson did not understand the situation well.
“Ah! Grandpa! Grandpa!”
The child reached out his hand to the huge portrait of his grandfather in front of the coffin.
The people around them took out their handkerchiefs and wiped their eyes.
The child chattered cheerfully by himself.
Grandpa said he would go horse riding with me when he comes back!
He said he would come back after sleeping ten nights!
“Grandpa… will come back after sleeping a hundred nights…”
The father had to say that to console the child who was bragging to the generals of the Red Army who came to comfort the bereaved family.
The child frowned when he heard that he had to wait much longer to ride a horse.
“We… we have lost one of the greatest cavalrymen and soldiers who dedicated himself to the Soviet Union in our era.”
The funeral procession went on endlessly. I had to give a speech in front of the crowd.
The wartime leader did not even have time to grieve for someone. I could not speak long for fear of tears.
Quickly, I finished the short eulogy without even knowing what I was saying.
I went back to my office after seeing the huge black crowd moving again.
My chest ached. He left so vainly.
Budenny, whom I had encountered through history books, was one of those ordinary people. But after living by his side and feeling affection for him, he seemed different. He had passion and vitality.
I remembered the times I spent with him. From the time he barged into my office with Borosilov and said he would stop the enemy in the swamp… Budenny always commanded the troops at the forefront of the army and led by example for the soldiers.
But… but it turned out like this.
I recalled what the generals often said. The brave ones are…
“Comrade Secretary! Comrade Secretary!”
Borosilov suddenly kicked open my door and came in. He looked very angry.
Behind him, the generals who had attended the funeral earlier followed him. No, even… Beria? They all looked unhappy. Zukov, who was arrogant and hot-tempered, looked like he was about to flip everything over any moment.
“What is going on? Comrade Beria?”
“…Just look at this.”
Beria, who was standing quietly at the back, handed me a newspaper. I snatched it and saw a large alphabet printed on it.
I could not read German, but… I could recognize the picture on the newspaper.
“Damn bastards!”
***
“Ready… one, two, three!”
“Hahahahaha!”
The Friedenthal commandos all smiled broadly and took a picture.
He did not participate in the operation, but Schorcheny wore a military cap with the star rank of the Soviet enemy shining on his head and laughed at the photographer. It was the evidence of killing Budenny.
Of course, there were pictures taken before they executed him on the spot, but the best thing to see with the eyes was the ‘trophies’.
“How did you do it?”
“Hey! Commandos! Look this way!”
Numerous reporters flocked to him. Schorcheny, who had several medals of the People’s Hero, took pictures and then sorted out his medals, answering one by one to the questions pouring out.
“Ah, that is very well explained in the materials distributed by the Ministry of Defense’s public relations office, so please refer to it.”
“Hahat, this is not a handsome face…”
Even if he had contributed to the capture of Gibraltar and the downfall of Britain, it was a distant story for the people. Schorcheny was far from fame.
But through the operation to kill Budenny, the operation name ‘Horse Hunt’, Schorcheny and the Friedenthal commandos rose to the top stars of the Third Reich. The stories of the giant warrior who looked like a berserker from the myths, 193cm, 105kg, spread through all kinds of newspapers and leaflets.
<The Berserker of the North Myth? The Third Reich’s Greatest Warrior! Armed Guard Senior Assault Leader Otto Schorcheny!>
<Nobody can stop him! My secret operations―with Schorcheny>
The picture of the ceremony where the Führer himself awarded him the rank of lieutenant colonel decorated the first page of all the daily newspapers in Western Europe.
He held the gilded AK-41 rifle he had captured from Budenny and roared, and hundreds of photographers took pictures of his pose.
“Sir, lieutenant colonel! Pose like this, like this! Yes, very good!”
“Haha… how many times do I have to repeat this?”
Of course, being a star was not an easy thing. If it were someone else, they would have set up a stand-in who looked similar, but his distinctive scars and physique made it impossible.
He had to take dozens of pictures because of the direct orders of the SS Supreme Leader Himmler and even the Führer himself.
He had to change his clothes several times in the scorching sun and do this, and it was exhausting even for him who boasted a steel-like stamina.
“Yep, I don’t know much about it… but anyway, the high-ups ordered it, so we have to do it. Now, this time!”
“Hahaha…”
Of course, there was a reason for this.
‘Damn… the situation seems to be really turning bad…’
They were spreading his ‘heroic tales’ through broadcasts and newspapers to divert the people’s eyes from the defeat. It was such an obvious trick, such an obvious story.
Killing Budenny would not change the situation. Budenny had become famous for fighting on the front line, but he was only that much.
He was not a strategist who commanded the grand plan, but a leader of the assault on the front.
And this was such a shallow move.
“Lieutenant Colonel Schorcheny! It’s time to depart!”
“Oh! Got it!”
A soldier from the Defense Army ran up to him and shouted. Schorcheny loosened the collar that was choking his log-like thick neck and cracked his neck with a thud.
“Mr. Photographer! You take care of the rest!”
“Y-yes? Ah… okay!”
“Come on! Let’s go! There are so many beauties in the south, right?”
The Friedenthal commandos who had finished similar photo works laughed out loud.
Of course, judging by their faces, they did not seem to be able to seduce the beauties, but they were all excited.
The team that was deployed to kill Budenny was nothing but the weakest in the Friedenthal commando.
The real elites were these guys, the ‘most dangerous men in Europe’ led by him.
They had been assigned a target that was hard to compare with the Soviet Union leader.
“Antonio de Oliveira Salazar, doctor! He was our target, right?”
“Then you have to go to Hungary next. Captain.”
“Hahahaha… damn, there are so many.”
The reason why he took pictures as if he had participated in the operation he did not participate in was because of that.
He disguised himself as if he had attended all kinds of events in the mainland, and then went into the ‘beheading operation’.
The ‘weak link’ among the countries that could be called the Axis was Portugal.
Portugal had traditionally been an ally of Britain, and did not want to participate in this war either.
If Franco, who had a great influence on Portugal next door, had not joined the Axis, they would have remained neutral.
But Franco eventually joined the Axis after seeing Germany’s amazing victory.
Salazar, who disliked fascism, had no choice but to be dragged into the Axis and give up Portugal’s maritime territories such as the Azores to the German army.
“According to the intelligence agency, Salazar tried to open his country’s ports such as Porto and Lisbon to the United States and open the way for the US troops to land on the European mainland after the Azores fell.”
“Ha! Damn traitor.”
It did not seem like something Germany, who had forcibly dragged Portugal into the alliance, could say, but anyway they received the order.
“The Führer’s order is to capture Salazar and exile him to our military base in Spain, and then fly to Hungary and kidnap Miklos.”
“Miklos too?”
“Yes. He was also negotiating with the Soviet Union to preserve his country instead of fighting, and join the Soviet army…”
There were only traitors here and there. Schorcheny grumbled.
At one time, all countries except the Soviet Union were under Germany’s wing. Schorcheny remembered those glorious moments well. Just a year ago…
But not anymore.
Romania had turned their guns around, and the partisans had caused trouble in the Balkans.
Finland started to look at the gap again, and Hungary and Portugal began to collude with the enemy.
“I see why the Führer is making such a fuss. No matter how hard we fight on the front line, if our allies don’t do their part…”
“That’s why we exist, right? Hahahaha!”
“Right! That’s right! How can we shine without hardship?”
Schorcheny laughed heartily.
But even as he laughed, his mind was not at ease. It was all tricks. The Führer did not solve things according to reason, but only hit them with force.
Kidnapping the leaders of the allied countries.
Of course, it was a great task for a soldier who carried it out. But how would Germany be seen in the countries where the puppet governments were established after the kidnapping?
Schorcheny, even if he thought briefly by himself, did not think it would be good.
‘It’s a trick of tricks…’
Even a lieutenant colonel like him thought there might be a better way than this.
No, wouldn’t it be better than this even if they did some dog shit?
Of course, his worries could not last long. A soldier was a being who executed when ordered. He was very loyal to himself as a soldier.
“Let’s go! To Portugal!”
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