Chapter 6:

Chapter 6:

Chapter 6

Whirr, whirr, whoosh! Hee-haw!

How long has it been since I rode a horse and galloped to my heart’s content? 10 years? 20 years?

In the late 1910s, during the Red-White Civil War, he organized the Red Army’s cavalry and became a commander of a division at the age of 30.

He was too important to run on the battlefield with his horse.

During the Soviet-Polish War, he also wanted to ride at the front, but everyone stopped him.

His heart was strong and his blood was still red, but his position prevented him from running.

The horse’s mane fluttered.

The leather reins decorated with bronze shone.

The muscles that had been sleeping for a long time between the fat that had settled on his thighs over the years stretched and began to tremble, as if asking why he had called them now, finally, at last.

“Ura! Ura!!! Long live the Red Army!”

Budyonny was at the head of thousands, tens of thousands of cavalrymen and spurred his horse.

The brave warriors of the Red Army responded to his shout and cheered.

Be happy that you are alive!

How beautiful is life?

When he ran on his horse, he was happy.

The gallop of Budyonny, the Soviet Union’s head of state and hero of the people, continued like that.

The operation that Budyonny had devised was good enough to erase some of the prejudice against him.

The idea was to cut off the supply lines of the Central Group of Forces’ Smolensk advance and delay them.

Using the still alive Pripyat Marshes’ railway network, he deployed cavalry as a mobile force that consumed less transport capacity and struck at the railway junctions.

If done well, he could blow up the German army’s supplies that were piled up and support the troops that were isolated in Minsk and fighting street battles in the city!

By hitting the rear of the Central Group of Forces once like this, he could also put the flank of the 1st Panzer Group that was pressing hard on Zhitomir within range.

It was the best way to relieve the pressure on the front from the enemy in the current situation.

When the Stavka approved this operation, Budyonny looked like he was about to fly.

There was a kind of love for horses in his blood.

He wanted to breathe the air of battle while running on the battlefield with his horse at least once more before he got older.

The blood of a warrior who wanted that flowed in his heart.

He was an old man who would have grandchildren by tomorrow or the day after, but he wanted to go to the battlefield so much.

‘I’ couldn’t understand it.

No, maybe even Stalin couldn’t understand it.

In fact, none of them in Stavka seemed to truly understand him.

The Bolsheviks who ruled over cities made of steel and concrete, symbols of material civilization and modernity in the 20th century, would never understand him.

Budyonny had been our comrade for a long time, but he was fundamentally different, a human of grasslands and fields, and nothing had changed in decades.

Was it because he believed in the romance of war?

The generals saw off Budyonny who mounted on an iron horse with a clank.

As I waved my hand from the balcony of Moscow Central Station, countless soldiers saluted me.

And Budyonny waved his hand brightly among them with a smile.

“Come back victorious!”

“Yes! Comrade Secretary General!”

As a loud voice announced the departure, the train started running towards the battlefield.

My chief secretary, Alexander Poskrebyshev, brought a desk next to my bed and sat down to write documents based on my instructions.

I had to grasp the issues and handle the administrative work with my head that was not working well.

“Comrade Secretary General, it’s time for your medicine.”

“Ah, ah! Yes... medicine, I need to take medicine... You go out and take a break. Smoke a cigarette too.”

I took out a high-quality cigar from my drawer with a trembling hand and handed it to Poskrebyshev.

I pushed him out as he hesitated and glanced at the remaining administrative documents for today.

Why? You know why.

In my dedicated medical office in the Kremlin Palace, there were several doctors who were in charge of me.

I didn’t think they would be much help considering the medical level of this era... but these doctors did one thing well.

They hired pretty nurses...!

She came in, shaking her plump buttocks left and right in a tight skirt that was shockingly short by this era’s standards – although the Soviet Union was already more open than the contemporary capitalist countries, to the point where Kolontai advocated the ‘glass of water’ theory – in a white nurse uniform that looked suffocating on her chest.

My body was in its 60s after going through hell and back, but my essence was a vigorous 20-something young man!

Hitler, you were wrong... Slavic women are much prettier than German women!

Even my dead thing seemed to twitch a little.

She was holding a tray with a bowl of medicine that was steaming.

When I swallowed my saliva, the nurse smiled with a cute wink, thinking that I was nervous about the bitter taste of the medicine.

“Oh my, Comrade Secretary General... Are you worried that the medicine will be bitter? I have prepared a sweet snack for you too, hehe”

Yeah... It would be sweet... Ouch...

“Oops... Oh no!”

Ahem, it was not intentional, but I spilled the bowl of medicine.

The hot and sticky liquid splashed on her clothes and the blanket.

I have to wipe it off for her!

If you think I swallowed my saliva, that’s your reactionary illusion.

In the revolutionary Soviet Union, even the supreme leader would kindly fix the mistakes of his subordinates.

“Come here, let me wipe it for you.”

When I gestured, she bit her lips and trembled in panic.

Hehe... She looked cute like that...?

I lifted the blanket and brought it close to her chest that was bouncing huge.

Her neck was slender and white like a deer, and it seemed to shiver, but it must have been an illusion of my eyes.

Well, illusion or not.

This was nothing but an ideal boss’s gesture of caring for a subordinate who made a ridiculous mistake.

How could this evil nurse harm the health of the Secretary General, the supreme leader?

The merciful Secretary General was taking care of her...

But suddenly my consciousness started to blur.

Was it because I was too excited? I felt short of breath.

Oh... Oh no...!

A few hours later, I woke up surrounded by doctors.

According to the chief doctor, I had a temporary fainting due to excessive sympathetic nerve stimulation.

He politely advised me to refrain from strenuous work and emotional excitement in the future.

Really... Is it impossible?