After Luniev waited for Zhukov to finish speaking, he asked cautiously: "Comrade Marshal, do you think it is necessary to inform Asiya that the commander is injured?"
"Asia?!" When Zhukov heard this name, he was stunned for a moment. Then he remembered that this was the name of Sokov's wife, so he nodded and said, "She should be informed, but I think it's better to wait for Misha to send it.
It won’t be too late to inform her after we return to Moscow.”
"Okay, let's wait until the commander returns to Moscow before informing Asya." After Lunev finished saying this, he was silent for a moment and then continued: "But I think we should tell Yaco about this as soon as possible.
husband……"
"Tell Yakov about this?!" Zhukov heard what Runev said, and he murmured in his heart at first, what should he tell Yakov about Sokov's injury? But then he thought about it, Yakov is Sokov's most important person.
Good friend, if you tell him this news, he will not only inform Asya, but also use his influence to make Sokov enjoy better treatment while he is hospitalized in Moscow Military Hospital.
Zhukov nodded and said: "Okay, General Runev, then it's up to you to make a call to Yakov."
Lunev knew the phone number here and could not communicate with Moscow, so he said goodbye to Zhukov and returned to his original headquarters. As soon as he left, the political commissar of the hospital said to Zhukov: "Comrade Marshal, although after today's rescue, the commander's vital signs have improved.
It has stabilized, but 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 injured people had successful surgeries, but died of post-operative infection. He nodded, looked at the hospital political commissar and asked: "Is there any way to solve this problem?"
?"
"Comrade Marshal, I heard that the Allied Forces have provided us with an antibiotic that can effectively reduce the chance of postoperative infection. If the commander can be given this antibiotic, his chance 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 drug. After all, I am only responsible for the political work of the hospital, and my professional shortcomings are here."
As soon as he finished speaking, he accidentally saw the medical director of the 69th Group 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 and hurriedly walked to the door.
, grabbed the medical director's arm and pulled him into the room.
When Zhukov saw the political commissar of the hospital dragging in a strange captain, he asked with some 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 medical director of the 69th Army Field Hospital. In terms of medicine, he is much more professional than me. It is better for him to be the one to introduce you."
Please introduce that kind of medicine."
Although the medical director had met many senior commanders, he still felt nervous when standing in front of a legendary figure like Zhukov. After he raised his hand in salute, he forgot to put his hand down and kept trembling. His lips were still trembling and he couldn't even speak even if he wanted to.
What to say.
Zhukov pulled his hand from his forehead and asked kindly: "Are you the medical director of the 69th Army?"
"Yes...yes, Comrade Marshal."
"The political commissar of the hospital just told me that the Allied Forces have aided us with a new type of antibiotic drug that can greatly reduce the chance of postoperative infection for the wounded. Do you know the name of this drug?"
If Zhukov had asked about something else, the medical director might still be nervous when he spoke, but since he was asking about something he was familiar with, his speech suddenly became fluent and natural: "I know, Comrade Marshal. Allied forces are assisting us."
This antibiotic drug, called penicillin, is very effective in controlling wound infection."
Zhukov couldn't help but his eyes lit up, and he quickly asked: "Now that the commander of the 27th Army, General Sokov, has just completed surgery, can he be given this drug to reduce the chance of postoperative infection?"
Hearing Zhukov's question, the medical director fell silent. After thinking for a long time, he said to Zhukov with a solemn expression: "Comrade Marshal, although the Allies said that when they provided us with this drug, they said that it has a particularly good anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effect.
It can greatly reduce the chance of wound infection, but I don’t recommend using it to General Sokov.”
"Why?" Zhukov asked in confusion: "Since the anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effect is 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 medical director looked at Zhukov and said: "The Allies are providing us with penicillin at this moment.
, nothing more than asking our wounded to help them conduct human experiments on this drug."
The words of the medical director made Zhukov frown. He was worried that Sokov would have postoperative infection, and the chance 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 asked him to see it.
When there was a glimmer of hope, the words of the medical director made him hesitant again. He did not want Sokov to become a test subject for the Allied new drugs.
Sokov was pushed out of the operating room. The commanders waiting in the corridor immediately swarmed up and asked the military doctor who came out of the operating room: "Military doctor, how was Comrade Commander's surgery?"
"Military doctor, when will Comrade Commander be able to recover and be discharged from the hospital?"
"Military doctor..."
For a time, the corridor was as busy as a vegetable market.
Zhukov happened to appear at the other end of the corridor at this time. Seeing the commotion here, he immediately shouted to stop: "Quiet, everyone!" However, his voice was covered up by the noise in the corridor.
Fortunately, the political commissar and medical director of the hospital who were following him also shouted at the top of their lungs and finally suppressed the voices of others. Everyone heard a voice coming from behind and turned around to see that it was Zhukov standing there.
Later, he hurriedly shut his mouth. Even the commanders who did not hear the sound gradually became quiet after being reminded by others.
Zhukov passed through the crowd and came to the flat car where Sokov was lying. He politely asked a military doctor standing next to the car: "Comrade military doctor, how is Misha's condition? Is his life in danger?"
When the military doctor heard Zhukov's question, he was stunned 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 treat him
Send him to the special care unit for observation for a period of time. If he wakes up before noon tomorrow, it means he is out of danger."
After Zhukov asked a few more small details in a low voice, he turned to the commanders who were eager to know the news and said loudly: "Comrade commanders, I know you are all worried about Misha's safety, but if you want to know the final result
, we need to wait until noon tomorrow. You are all important commanders and cannot leave your combat posts for a long time. You should all go back first. After Misha is out of danger, I will comrade you as soon as possible. "
Now that Zhukov had spoken in person, the commanders present, no matter how unwilling they were, could no longer stay here. They could only salute Zhukov in unison and turn around to leave the operating room.
After Sokov was pushed into the ward, the hospital director came out of the operating room and saw Zhukov standing outside the door. He quickly stepped forward and saluted: "Hello, Comrade Marshal, I am the director of the 27th Army Field Hospital...
"
Before the dean could finish 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. What is the chance of Misha surviving?"
The dean thought for a moment and replied cautiously: "Very high."
"How high?"
Seeing Zhukov's questioning, the muscles on the dean's face trembled unnaturally twice, and he said fearfully: "Although after our operation, the commander has a high chance of being out of danger, there is an uncertain factor..."
Zhukov naturally knew what the uncertain factors the other party was talking about, so he interrupted him and asked: "Comrade Dean, the uncertain factors you mentioned are postoperative infections, right?"
"That's right, Comrade Marshal." The director nodded and said, "Many of our wounded did not die on the battlefield or on the operating table, but in the end they lost their precious lives to post-operative infection."
"Isn't there a way to avoid it?"
"No." The director replied with regret: "Postoperative infection is a headache, and no one can solve it."
"Didn't the Allies 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. Doesn't it have very
Good anti-inflammatory and bactericidal effects can greatly reduce the chance of postoperative infection.”
When the director heard this, he had a look of astonishment on his face. Because the name of this drug was confidential, no one in the entire field hospital except him and a few people knew it. He asked Zhukov in surprise: "Marshal
Comrade, how do you know about this medicine?"
"Don't worry about where I heard it from." 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 answered truthfully: "The penicillin assigned to us by our superiors is now in the pharmacy, and not a single bottle has been used."
"Where is this new drug?" Zhukov said in a tone that left no room for doubt: "Take me there to have a look."
The director thought that although the field hospital had been handed over to friendly forces, the pharmacy was still under his control, so he politely said to Zhukov: "Comrade Marshal, please come with me, and I will take you to the pharmacy to have a look."
The pharmacy was 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 entering the door and quickly stood up from his seat, straightened his back and saluted Zhukov with his attention.
The dean pointed his hand at a senior pharmacist and ordered him: "Bring over a bottle of penicillin. Comrade Marshal wants to see what it looks like."
The pharmacist agreed, turned around and walked to the shelf, picked up a vial from the top, walked back and handed it to the dean. The dean took the 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, are these powders in the bottle Penicillin?" After receiving a positive answer from the other party, he continued to ask.
, "How to use? 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 use a syringe to inject the wounded."
After listening to the dean's explanation, Zhukov turned the medicine bottle over and over for a long time, wondering whether he should let Sokov 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, under the current situation, he could only treat a dead horse as a living horse. Thinking of this, he said to the dean
: "Comrade Dean, instead of letting this medicine sit here and no one cares about it, why not give it to Misa and see what the effect is."
The dean was immediately shocked and said to Zhukov quickly: "Comrade Marshal, isn't this too risky?"
Zhukov looked at the dean and said expressionlessly: "Sometimes you still have to take risks. You should immediately arrange for someone to inject him with this antibiotic. If there is any problem, I will take the responsibility."
Although the dean was unwilling to do so, since Zhukov had spoken, he could only obey. He took the medicine bottle from Zhukov's hand, handed it to the pharmacist, and told the other person: "Send this medicine to me."
Ward, let’s just say that the commander was given the injection according to the order of Comrade Marshal.”
Zhukov was worried that the military doctors were acting erratically, and even went outside the ward to supervise the nurses to inject Sokov with penicillin. The director was worried about what might happen to this drug, which had never been used before, and did not dare to leave at all, so he stayed in the ward.
If there is any problem, it can be rescued in time.
Then what he worried about did not happen. Sokov, who was suffering from a high fever, actually went away half an hour after injecting penicillin. The dean felt that it was incredible. He did not expect that the effect of this antibiotic drug was better than his impression.
The disulfide in it is countless times more powerful.
Originally, the dean planned to wait until noon the next day for Sokov's condition to improve further before sending him to Moscow. But he did not expect that the effect of penicillin was so good. As the high fever subsided, Sokov's vital signs became worse.
more stable.
Seeing that Sokov's condition had stabilized, Zhukov felt that he should be sent to Moscow as soon as possible for further treatment, so he ordered the dean: "Comrade dean, please immediately arrange for personnel to send Misha to the airport in the north of the city.
, let him and I take the same plane back to Moscow to receive better treatment there."