Chapter 1666: Return to Moscow (Part 2)

  Chapter 1666 Return to Moscow (Part 2)

   Lunev waited for Zhukov to finish speaking, and asked cautiously: "Comrade Marshal, do you think it is necessary to inform Assia about the commander's injury?"

"Assia?!" When Zhukov heard the name, he was taken aback for a moment, then remembered that it was the name of the Soko couple's wife, and nodded, "We should inform her, but I think it's better to wait for Misha to see her off." It will not be too late to inform her after returning to Moscow."

"Okay, then wait for the commander to return to Moscow, and then inform Assia." After Lunev finished speaking, he was silent for a moment, and then continued: "But I think I should tell Yako about this as soon as possible. husband…"

   "Tell Yakov about this?!" Zhukov heard Lunev say this, and first murmured in his heart, what to tell Yakov about Sokov's injury. But after thinking about it, Yakov is Sokov's best friend. If you tell him the news, not only can he come forward to inform Assia, but also use his influence to make Sokov stay in the Moscow Military Hospital. , enjoy better treatment.

  Zhukov nodded and said: "Okay, General Lunev, then it's up to you to call Yakov."

   Lunev knew the phone number here and could not talk to Moscow, so he said goodbye to Zhukov and returned to the original headquarters. As soon as he left, the political commissar of the hospital said to Zhukov: "Comrade Marshal, although the commander's vital signs have stabilized after today's rescue, the most worrying thing is the postoperative infection."

  The problem mentioned by the political commissar of the hospital was exactly what Zhukov was worried about. Many wounded patients had successful operations, but died of postoperative infection. He nodded, looked at the political commissar of the hospital and asked, "Is there any way to solve this problem?"

   "Comrade Marshal, I heard that the Allied Forces assisted us with an antibiotic, which can effectively reduce the chance of postoperative infection. If the commander can be given this antibiotic, his chances of survival may be greatly improved."

  Zhukov asked with great interest: "Comrade political commissar, do you know the name of this antibiotic?"

  The political commissar of the hospital shook his head and replied with a wry smile: "I'm sorry, Comrade Marshal, I don't know the name of this antibiotic. After all, I am only in charge of the political work of the hospital, and my professional aspect is my shortcoming."

   As soon as he finished speaking, he accidentally saw the chief of medical affairs of the 69th Army, poking his head outside the door, as if he wanted to confirm whether Zhukov had left the office. Seeing this, the political commissar of the hospital showed joy on his face. He quickly walked to the door, grabbed the arm of the chief of medical affairs, and pulled him into the room.

  Zhukov saw that the political commissar of the hospital had brought in an unfamiliar captain, and asked in surprise, "Comrade political commissar, who is he?"

"Comrade Marshal," the political commissar of the hospital introduced to Zhukov: "Let me introduce to you, this is the chief of medical affairs of the 69th Army Field Hospital. Tell me about that drug."

Although the Chief of Medical Affairs had met many senior commanders, he was still nervous when standing in front of such a legendary figure as Zhukov. After he raised his hand to salute, he forgot to put it down, his lips were still trembling, and he didn’t know what to say. What to say.

  Zhukov pulled his hand from his forehead and asked amiably: "Are you the chief of medical affairs of the 69th Army?"

   "Yes... yes, Comrade Marshal."

   "Just now the political commissar of the hospital told me that the Allied Forces assisted us with a new type of antibiotic drug, which can greatly reduce the chances of wounded postoperative infection. Do you know the name of this drug?"

If Zhukov asked about other things, the chief of medical affairs might still be nervous when he spoke, but since he asked about something he knew well, he immediately became fluent and natural: "Yes, Comrade Marshal. The Allied forces will help us This antibiotic drug, called penicillin, is very effective in controlling wound infection."

  Zhukov couldn't help but his eyes lit up, and he asked quickly: "General Sokov, the commander of the 27th Army, has just finished his operation. Can he be given this drug to reduce the chance of postoperative infection?"

Hearing this question from Zhukov, the Chief of Medical Affairs fell silent. After thinking for a long time, he said to Zhukov with a serious expression: "Comrade Marshal, although the Allied Forces provided us with this medicine, they said that the anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effect of the medicine is particularly good. It can greatly reduce the chance of wound infection, but I would not recommend it to General Sokov."

   "Why?" Zhukov asked wonderingly: "Since the anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effects are obvious, why not give it to him?"

"Although this drug has been available since the beginning of the year, it does have good anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effects, but its toxic and side effects on the human body are still being tested." The chief of medical affairs looked at Zhukov and said, "The Allied forces are providing us with penicillin right now. , nothing more than wanting our wounded to help them conduct human experiments on this drug."

  The words of the chief of medical affairs made Zhukov frowned. He was worried that Sokov would suffer from postoperative infection, and the probability of this was very high. When the political commissar of the hospital said that there was a drug that could reduce the chance of infection, he saw a glimmer of hope. Unexpectedly, what the medical director said made him hesitant. He didn't want Sokov to be a test for the new drug of the Allies Taste.

  Sokov was pushed out of the operating room, and the commanders who were waiting in the corridor immediately rushed forward and asked the military doctor who came out of the operating room: "Military doctor, how is the operation of Comrade Commander?"

   "Military doctor, when will Comrade Commander recover from his injuries and leave the hospital?"

   "Military doctor..."

  For a while, the corridor was as lively as a vegetable market.

   Zhukov happened to appear at the other end of the corridor at this time. Seeing the commotion here, he immediately stopped it: "Quiet, everyone!" However, his voice was covered by the noise from the corridor.

   Fortunately, the political commissar and chief of medical affairs of the hospital who followed behind him also shouted at the top of their voices, finally suppressing the voices of others. Everyone heard a voice behind them, turned their heads to look, and found that Zhukov was standing behind, and hurriedly closed his mouth. Even those commanders who didn't hear the sound gradually became quiet under the reminder of others.

  Zhukov passed through the crowd and came to the flat car where Sokov was lying. He politely asked a military doctor standing beside the car: "Comrade military doctor, how is Misha's condition? Is his life in danger?"

Hearing Zhukov's question, the military doctor was taken aback for a moment, then remembered that Sokov's nickname was Misha, and quickly replied: "Comrade Marshal, after our rescue, the commander's vital signs have stabilized. We will send him Send him to the intensive care unit for observation for a period of time, and if he wakes up before noon tomorrow, it means that he is out of danger."

After asking a few small details in a low voice, Zhukov turned to the commanders who were eager to know the news, and said loudly: "Commanders, I know you are all worried about Misha's safety, but you need to know the final result. , You need to wait until noon tomorrow, you are all important commanders, you can’t leave your combat posts for a long time, you should go back first. After Misha is out of danger, I will accompany you as soon as possible.”

  Since Zhukov had spoken in person, the commanders present could no longer stay here no matter how unwilling they were. They could only salute Zhukov in unison, and then turned and left the operating room.

  After Sokov was pushed into the ward, the director of the hospital came out of the operating room, saw Zhukov standing outside the door, and quickly stepped forward to salute: "Hello, Comrade Marshal, I am the director of the 27th Army Field Hospital..."

   Before the dean finished speaking, Zhukov raised his hand to interrupt him, and asked with a straight face: "Comrade dean, there are no outsiders here. I want to hear the truth from you. How high is the chance of Misha surviving?"

  The dean considered for a moment, then replied cautiously: "Very high."

   "How tall?"

  Seeing Zhukov's questioning, the dean's face trembled unnaturally twice, and he said in fear: "Although after our operation, the commander's life-threatening probability is very high, but there is an uncertain factor..."

  Zhukov naturally knew what the other party was referring to as uncertain factors, so he interrupted him and asked, "Comrade Dean, the uncertain factors you mentioned refer to postoperative infection, right?"

   "That's right, Comrade Marshal." The dean nodded and said, "Many of our wounded did not die on the battlefield or on the operating table, but in the end they were infected by postoperative infection and took their precious lives."

   "Is there no way to avoid it?"

   "No." The dean replied with a look of regret: "Infection after surgery is a headache, and no one can solve it."

"Didn't the Allied forces provide us with a new antibiotic drug..." Zhukov thought about it carefully, remembered the name of the drug, and continued: "Penicillin, yes, that's the name. It's not very good. The anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effect can greatly reduce the chance of postoperative infection.”

  Hearing this, the dean showed a shocked expression on his face, because the name of this drug is confidential, so no one in the field hospital except him and a few people knows it. He asked Zhukov in surprise: "Comrade Marshal, how did you know about this medicine?"

   "Don't worry about where I heard about it." Zhukov waved his hand impatiently and said, "You just need to tell me, does penicillin have this effect?"

   "I don't know, we have never used it." The dean replied truthfully: "The penicillin assigned to us by the superior is now in the pharmacy, and a bottle has never been used."

   "Where is this new drug available?" Zhukov said in an unquestionable tone, "Take me there to have a look."

  The dean thought that although the field hospital had been handed over to the friendly army, the pharmacy was still under his control, so he politely said to Zhukov: "Comrade Marshal, please follow me, and I will take you to the pharmacy to have a look."

  The pharmacy is not far away. A few minutes later, the dean and Zhukov walked into the pharmacy. The pharmacist on duty in the pharmacy saw the two people enter the door, quickly stood up from his seat, straightened his back and saluted Zhukov.

  The dean pointed at a senior pharmacist with his hand, and told him: "You bring a bottle of penicillin here, Comrade Marshal wants to see what it is like."

  The pharmacist agreed, turned around and walked to the shelf, picked up a vial from above, walked back and handed it to the dean. The dean took the medicine bottle and handed it to Zhukov: "Comrade Marshal, look, this is penicillin."

Zhukov took the medicine, carefully looked at the white powder in the small bottle, frowned and asked, "Comrade Dean, is the powder in the bottle the same as penicillin?" After getting an affirmative answer from the other party, he continued to ask , "How to use it, is it taken orally?"

   "No, Comrade Marshal." The dean quickly explained to Zhukov: "This is for injection. First add distilled water, shake the bottle vigorously to dissolve the white powder inside, and then inject the wounded with a syringe."

  After listening to the dean's explanation, Zhukov looked at the medicine bottle over and over for a long time, wondering whether Sokov should be allowed to use this new type of antibiotic.

  After repeated ideological struggles, Zhukov finally made up his mind. Although it was too risky for Sokov to use penicillin, in the current situation, he could only use a dead horse as a living horse doctor. Thinking of this, he said to the dean: "Comrade dean, instead of leaving this medicine here and no one cares about it, it is better to give it to Misha and see how it works."

  The dean suddenly turned pale with fright, and quickly said to Zhukov: "Comrade Marshal, is this too risky?"

  Zhukov looked at the dean and said blankly: "Sometimes you should take the risk, you still have to take it. You immediately arrange for someone to inject this antibiotic for him. If there is any problem, I will take responsibility."

Although the dean was 10,000 unwilling, but since Zhukov had spoken, he could only obey it obediently. He took the medicine bottle in Zhukov's hand, handed it to the pharmacist, and told the other party, "You send this medicine to the pharmacist." In the ward, it is said that the commander was injected according to the order of Comrade Marshal."

  Zhukov was worried that those military doctors would be obedient to others, so he personally went outside the ward to supervise the nurses injecting Sokov with penicillin. The dean was worried about what might happen to the medicine that had never been used before, so he didn't dare to leave, so he stayed in the ward all the time, so that if there was any problem, he could be rescued in time.

   Then what he was worried about did not happen. Sokov, who had a high fever, actually subsided half an hour after injecting penicillin. The dean found it unbelievable. He didn't expect the effect of this antibiotic drug to be countless times stronger than the disulfide in his impression.

  Originally, the dean planned to wait until noon the next day to send Sokov to Moscow after his condition improved further. But I didn't expect the effect of penicillin to be so good. As the high fever subsided, Sokov's vital signs became more stable.

Seeing that Sokov's condition had stabilized, Zhukov felt that he should be sent to Moscow as soon as possible for the next step of treatment, so he told the director: "Comrade director, you should immediately arrange for people to send Misha to the airport in the north of the city." , let him return to Moscow on the same plane as me, where he will receive better treatment."

  (end of this chapter)