Transmigrated as the Crown Prince

Stalingrad.

On a street, a group of Liberation Army soldiers covering their mouths and noses with towels were throwing Soviet corpses on the ground into trucks nearby. It's summer now, and if these corpses are not disposed of in time, they will inevitably rot, stink, and even cause widespread diseases. Therefore, every time the German army advances a little bit, these corpses need to be disposed of in time.

"These damn bastards can be so disgusting even when they die!" These corpses can be said to be all kinds of horrible. The ones with half of their faces shot off are considered good, and even worse, the whole head was blown off by large-caliber bullets, or Half of his body was shattered by artillery shells; sometimes he had to use an engineer shovel to shovel up the lumps of "things" on the ground.

If it weren't for the extra vodka as a reward for picking up these corpses, I'm afraid no one would do such a disgusting job.

Soon, a truck full of corpses drove through the bumpy roads to an incineration plant outside the city. More than a dozen incinerators were built here specifically to burn these corpses. These incinerators are fully powered 24 hours a day, but they are still in short supply, and the German army is planning to expand a few more.

The fighting in the city is still going on. If there is a hell in the world, then this should be the place closest to it. The entire Stalingrad has become a ruin, and there is no so-called safe place in this ruins - even if there is, it is on the side occupied by the Germans.

In the underground headquarters in the Stalingrad center, the logistics general responsible for the reserve of medical supplies came to see Commander Vasilevsky again. He had already reported the shortage of emergency medicines three days ago. "Comrade Commander, our soldiers can only wait to die now." The logistics general choked up as he spoke. If there are sufficient first-aid medicines, most of the wounded only need a few days to recover from their injuries before they can be active and ready to fight again. But now they can only watch as the non-fatal wounds become infected, worsen and spread, eventually claiming the lives of these wounded people.

Vasilevsky couldn't help but sigh. He was extremely anxious. I have sent several telegrams to Moscow asking for help, but so far I have not seen a single pill delivered. The Germans have surrounded the entire Stalingrad so airtight that, to exaggerate, not even a fly or mosquito can be found. There is only access, let alone one's own supplies.

Wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, the logistics general hesitated and spoke carefully. "Comrade Commander, if you don't let these injured soldiers surrender, you can at least save one life." It's better to be a prisoner than to lose your life in vain.

Vasilevsky frowned slightly, remained silent for a while, and waved his hand. "I will ask Comrade Stalin for instructions. You should go back first." Then he asked his correspondent to send a report to Moscow. This time he made it clear that if medicines were no longer available, Stalingrad would really not be able to survive for long.

Soon, the correspondent came to the headquarters with a reply call from Moscow, but his face looked a little strange.

Vasilevsky's adjutant asked. "What's wrong?" He reached out to take the message and read out the contents. "The great Soviet leader Comrade Stalin promoted General Vasilevsky to Marshal of the Soviet Union!"

"..." The atmosphere in the entire headquarters was a little strange, and everyone's eyes were focused on the telegram. After all, everyone is very clear about what Stalin's promotion means.

Obviously Vasilevskiy himself understood very well, and a somewhat stiff smile appeared on his face. "Comrade Stalin is so generous. Now I am also a Marshal of the Soviet Union. You should all congratulate me, right?"

Snapped! Snapped! Snapped!

Everyone clapped somewhat mechanically, but they really couldn't say anything to say congratulations.

News of the promotion soon spread across the world via radio.

"Promote Vasilevsky to marshal?" Yannick curled his lips disdainfully, promoting a dying man to marshal, which is like the mustache of the original time and space.

On November 19, 1942, the million-strong Soviet army gathered in the middle reaches of the Don River and around Stalingrad, with lightning speed, tore apart the weak wings of the German 6th Army and attacked the area between the Don River and the Volga River. Paulus's troops implemented a pincer-like siege.

After Paulus repeatedly assessed the situation, he held an emergency military meeting at the headquarters and reached a unanimous resolution with his subordinates, that is, to persist in fighting until the last moment and ask Mustache to provide air supplies.

However, supplies to the German army were delayed, and the situation on the battlefield was deteriorating. In this case, Paulus's men strongly recommended organizing a breakout. However, the report requesting a breakout was forcefully rejected by Mustache, and Paulus was still ordered to stand still and wait for reinforcements.

Paulus believed Mustache's promise of supplies and eventually obeyed Mustache's orders. But a few weeks later, the Luftwaffe, which was unable to protect itself, cut off air supplies, and Paulus was left fighting alone.

On January 10, 1943, the Soviet army launched its final offensive. The 6th Army was divided and surrounded by the Soviet army. After half a month of fierce fighting, the defeat of the exhausted German army was determined. Faced with the Soviet ultimatum of immediate surrender, Paulus telegraphed Mustache again, wanting to give up resistance and reduce unnecessary casualties. But Mustache once again rejected his request and strictly ordered to stick to the end until the last soldier was killed.

On January 31, 1943, Lubaus had no choice but to surrender to the Soviet army.

Ironically, just the day before the surrender, Mustache issued an order promoting Paulus to field marshal in order to stimulate Paulus' fighting spirit. The marshal's epaulettes were also quickly delivered by airdrop to the outskirts of Stalingrad where Paulus was besieged.

Faced with this embarrassing honor, Paulus could not suppress the pain and bitterness in his heart, and just said lightly: "The Führer is so generous."

But at this time, the situation of both parties seemed to have reversed. "The rank of marshal in the Soviet Union is simply a reminder." Among the earliest five marshals (Bluukher, Voroshilov, Tukhachevsky, Budyonny, and Yegorov), only Budyon Ni lives as a traitor. Later, Timoshenko defected and Shaposhnikov committed suicide. Seeing that the newly promoted Vasilevsky was not going to die soon.

"Let Budyonny and Timoshenko each write a letter of persuasion to surrender and send it to Vasilevsky." Although they have occupied two-thirds of Stalingrad, the remaining Soviet troops will desperately resist. It is also a unnecessary casualty for them.

He hoped that Marshal Vasilevsky could understand the current situation like Marshal Shaposhnikov and surrender obediently.