Chapter 60 Britain Cannot Be Trusted

"This is a very interesting joke." Sokolova's eyes shimmered with a fluctuating light, her gaze toward Koman carrying deep meaning.

"I will be staying in the guards' dormitory at the prisoner-of-war camp tonight," Koman said calmly. "I'd like to experience the routine of a POW camp firsthand."

Pavlov raised an eyebrow. Aside from Koman's blunt and straightforward tongue, this might be yet another unexpected gain. "Sub-lieutenant Koman's train of thought is truly admirable."

"It's just a mere guards' dormitory," Koman thought to himself, having lived in far worse places inside them. "Only by experiencing it in person can one truly appreciate the value of freedom, wouldn't you say?"

Central Asia was a traditional nomadic region of the Soviet Union. Although it was wartime, beef and mutton were by no means scarce.

It was much like Pakistan and the Great Eastern Country in the 21st century. Pakistan, a nation even poorer than India, had a higher per capita availability of beef and mutton domestically while maintaining lower prices—purely a natural consequence of geography.

Likewise caught in the storm of war, the Soviet wartime reality and the wartime reality of the Great Eastern Country were bound to be vastly different. During the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression, one had to wonder what rank an officer needed to attain just to be able to drink alcohol.

Yet in the Soviet Union, which was simultaneously fighting the Great Patriotic War against Germany, Pavlov produced two bottles of vodka. The three of them lit a stove in the guards' dormitory and opened a window to let out the smoke. As Koman threaded the meat onto skewers, he muttered continuously, "The two of you are in for a treat. I never even did this for my own comrades back in France."

"Then I thank you very much." Sokolova, assigned by the NKVD as the French translator, primarily facilitated communication between Koman and Pavlov.

On this quiet night, the German prisoners of war, who had spent the entire day clearing wasteland, were shivering in the freezing environment inside a concentration camp that let the wind in from all four sides.

Although the conditions on Koman's side could not be described as vastly superior, compared to the plight of the German prisoners, it was the difference between heaven and earth.

"I didn't expect Sub-lieutenant Koman to possess such skills. I wonder if the flavor matches our country's taste." Pavlov and his colleague each accepted a meat skewer handed over by Koman and took a bite. Pavlov then uncorked the vodka and poured a glass for Koman.

"Thank you." Koman figured that a single glass shouldn't be enough to get him drunk. Since the Soviet officer was acting out of goodwill, he did not refuse.

At that moment, Koman felt quite at ease. Bathed in the warm glow of the fire, he conversed peacefully with the two Soviet officers. "I'll just have this one glass."

"It seems Sub-lieutenant Koman's alcohol tolerance is not particularly strong." Pavlov laughed heartily. Revitalized by the vodka, he was evidently much more talkative than usual.

"I'm just afraid that if I drink too much, I might leave some kind of leverage in a country as vigilant as yours." As Koman spoke, he turned to look at Sokolova, who was tasting a meat skewer. His implication was self-evident.

"Are you implying that I would take the opportunity to sleep with you and use it to blackmail you into becoming a spy in France?" Sokolova's movements paused slightly. She was almost amused to the point of anger by Koman's wild imagination. Did the man have any idea how shameless such a notion was?

"Perhaps you wouldn't do that, but remaining vigilant isn't a mistake on my part." Koman thought to herself, *How many times have you Soviets employed honey traps? It's a standard procedure anyway.* "That's simply my concern. Therefore, I can state my attitude quite bluntly—there's no need to rack your brains. If you want to know something, you can ask directly. Everyone here is an ally now, and whatever can be said, I will certainly not conceal."

"So you're saying you look down on me?" Seeing the guard on Koman's face, Sokolova couldn't help but ask, "Or are you trying to say you've seen plenty of beautiful women in France?"

"France doesn't have as many beautiful women as the Soviet Union." Koman hesitated for a moment before adding, "The Soviet Union probably has the most. I am a pragmatic person and won't lie about such matters; there's no need."

Koman felt there might be something slightly wrong with him. While in France, he had put up a very proper facade, yet upon changing countries, he had instead let down his guard. If this were anyone else, it would be the textbook definition of a natural-born traitor.

However, exhibiting such behavior must have its reasons; it was forgivable and driven by objective circumstances.

He was a man far from home, traveling to another country for the sake of France's future to examine their policies. Everything he did was fraught with immense sacrifice—and most crucially, even greater sacrifices, such as engaging in deep exchanges with Soviet women, had to be guarded against.

When he thought of it that way, the sacrifice became even greater.

"Being pragmatic, could you tell us about what happened on the streets of Marseille?" Pavlov had already received the investigative report from his superiors. After reading it, his impression of Koman had worsened, though he didn't show it.

"After the suppression of the French Communist Party in Marseille, I followed the advancing troops to Italy and even attended the Italian Communist Party congress in Turin, where I caught a glimpse of Togliatti from afar." Koman looked straight into Pavlov's eyes. "I've told you what you wanted to know; can you now explain the Soviet Union's minority resettlement policy?"

Pavlov opened his mouth. Stalin's population transfers of ethnic minorities had already begun and were still ongoing at this very moment. He believed the policy was entirely correct, but sitting before him was a Frenchman, and he had no desire to discuss it.

This explained why Koman had been as quiet as a church mouse in France—sometimes one had to bow to the French environment and extinguish any urge to stir up trouble. Things had been much better in Italy, and coming to the Soviet Union was even better still.

Koman took a sip of vodka, a mocking expression on his face. Sokolova felt she had to chime in with a remark at that moment. "France did not perform well in this war."

"To say it didn't perform well is an understatement, but there was no alternative. After two million French soldiers were encircled, where was the population left in France to mobilize any forces?" Koman replied dismissively. "Besides, there is also our suspicious neighbor of several centuries, Britain. The moment France shows any sign of seizing European hegemony, they will jump out. However..."

That "however" caught Sokolova's attention, prompting her to ask eagerly, "However what?"

"However, it will be your turn soon enough." Koman chuckled cheerfully. "After the war ends, the Soviet Union will become a European power, and Britain will employ the very same tricks against the Soviet Union that it used against France."

"The Soviet Union is not something Britain can contend with," Pavlov corrected coldly. "This country is no longer the former British Empire."

"And what about the United States? Britain will undoubtedly use the affinity of a shared language to make the United States inherit Britain's offshore balancing strategy. Since the United States is situated in the Americas, it normally cannot compete with the powers of the Eurasian landmass, creating a natural possibility for it to inherit British policy."

Here, Koman changed the subject. "As for whether Britain will do this—as friendly neighbors who have bled each other dry for centuries, I understand Britain the way a peasant understands manure. They will definitely do it."

"If the global hegemony is to be shared between two nations, which one will Britain choose? Surely neither of you believes Britain would choose the Soviet Union? Once Germany is defeated, a rupture between the United States and the Soviet Union is only a matter of time. Furthermore, I can say with absolute certainty that Britain's hostility toward the Soviet Union is even greater than that of the United States. Thirty years ago, the Allied intervention forces led by Britain to suppress the Soviet Revolution—surely that hasn't been forgotten so quickly?"

Koman knew this would inevitably end up in Pavlov's or Sokolova's reports, but he harbored no other ulterior motives; he simply wanted to disgust the British, nothing more.

Britain was the opponent against which France would seek to establish its influence in Western Europe in the future, and it was weaker in strength than the Soviet Union. Such an imaginary enemy was so fitting that this might be France's first real chance since Napoleon to thoroughly defeat its rival.

What wrong had Koman done? He was merely firing illumination flares at the retreating British.