The setting sun in the distance hung high on the horizon. Malashenko, who had left his car, was walking between the positions. Under his feet was a land soaked in blood and the lives of the loyal guardians of this land.
The German army retreated, but those fanatics who were not afraid of death and were willing to sacrifice everything and even their lives for their beliefs and their superior leader, failed to break through the red line in the end and threw thousands of corpses in front of the line.
, and the flaming wreckage of dozens of tanks retreated.
The soldiers were cleaning up the battlefield, collecting everything of value and use from the corpses of German soldiers on the battlefield, including weapons, ammunition, cigarettes, lighters, and even bread and paper-wrapped sausages that were in their pockets and were not eaten in time.
.
The SS commando captain who had pulled half of the body out of the tank was lying on the ground at the moment. His two dull eyes were staring at the sky above his head that was painted by the afterglow. The bayonet stuck in his chest was a knife
The final murder weapon that killed him, the blood dripping down his clothes had long since dried and solidified.
He once risked his life to save others, but when he was about to die, no one risked his life to save him. Those around him who were within sight were only shot to death by pistols, swept over by submachine guns, and killed by submachine guns.
The bayonet stabbed through the chest of the corpse of his comrade.
The commando leader who emptied all the magazines he carried with him and swung around with an engineer shovel finally died at the last moment of failure.
Holding his Somi submachine gun in his hand that he still didn't want to throw away, Malashenko came to the body of the SS commando captain and kicked away another German corpse that was pressing on his stomach.
, the shining silver thing hanging around his neck obviously caught Malashenko's attention.
He stretched his hand into the collar and pulled it down. The metal bead chain was easily broken by Malashenko, who had strong hands. The thing that Malashenko placed in the palm of his hand was a powerful weapon.
Metal pendant to store photos.
Click——
With a slight movement of his right thumb, Malashenko opened the cover of the pendant and saw what was contained inside.
The girl on the left of the photo smiled brightly, and the man on the right had a very handsome slicked back hair and was wearing a military uniform. However, the skull mark on the military uniform made Malashenko, whose face was stained with blood, look at it.
I felt downright sick.
"Go to hell with this bitch, you idiot!"
The pendant was thrown out and landed on the top of the commando captain's forehead. It flicked lightly and fell to the side in the puddle of blood that could no longer be absorbed by the earth. It made a soft thud like a heavy object hitting the water and was never seen again.
trace.
The soldiers carrying the stretcher slowly passed Malashenko, and the painful moans coming from the stretcher from time to time were very uncomfortable to hear.
Malashenko turned around and walked forward, following the direction from which the painful groans came, and stopped two soldiers who were carrying a stretcher.
The soldiers recognized the man in front of them who was dressed the same as an ordinary tank soldier. He was Colonel Malashenko, commander of the 1st Heavy Tank Brigade of Stalin's Guards who came to support their defense. When it was inconvenient to salute, he held up his hands.
Under the circumstances, he immediately nodded towards Malashenko, and Malashenko, who took off his black leather gloves as he walked, responded with a military salute.
"Which position is injured? Comrade."
Malashenko, who spoke first, walked to the stretcher and only then discovered that the wounded soldier being carried on the stretcher was actually a tank soldier under his command, wearing his iconic uniform and the Guards badge pinned to his chest.
Malashenko silently told his identity.
"The deputy commander of the third company of the first tank battalion, Captain Borisov, reports to you. I wish you good health, comrade brigade commander."
The captain, whose entire right arm was covered with bandages, was lying on a stretcher and raised his hands to salute Malashenko with difficulty. Every slight forceful movement made his already distorted expression become even more wrinkled.
"No need to salute me, stop what you are doing! Captain Borisov, you need to have a good rest now."
Malashenko vaguely remembered seeing this company commander when he inspected Kulbalov's first battalion. If he remembered correctly, this should be one of the main company commanders around Kulbalov. He was assigned
The command vehicle should be the battalion command type is2 that Kulbalov replaced after taking over the is6.
"My car was penetrated three times by Germans, Comrade Brigadier."
"Both the gunner and the loader were sacrificed. The driver and I put out the fire in the car twice. By the third time, we really had no way to continue putting out the fire. All the things that could be used to put out the fire were used up.
I even threw my own water bottle in. I don’t know how I fell, I just remember that the fire surrounded me and there were countless Kraut tanks beside me.”
"When I opened my eyes again, I had been carried out of the tank and lying on a stretcher. The doctor said that half of my body was burned. I was lucky to survive. Can I come back to fight?
Comrade Brigadier."
Malashenko did not lift the blanket covering Borisov's body. Just by the smell of burnt human flesh floating in his nostrils, he knew that the truth would only be worse. Those who are used to this smell
Malashenko has become desensitized to this and has even become somewhat numb.
"You will come back, Captain Borisov, and the comrades will always be waiting for your return."
"You fought well with your comrades. I saw your battalion at the front beating the Germans to a bloody head. You are very brave! I will inform the front headquarters of your deeds in my name and help you.
Apply for the honor, and just relax and wait to be published in the newspaper!"
Captain Borisov, who actually suffered nearly 70% burns on his body, forgot about the pain for a moment and no longer moaned in pain.
Malashenko could see the sparkling tears in his excited eyes. They were shed for the sake of more comrades who had not survived until now, and they could no longer be suppressed.
Malashenko, who was a little moved by the scene, had red eyes and waved his hand to carry the person down. He casually wiped his dirty sleeves on his face to wipe away the sticky blood stains. A man strode up from not far away.
The man is waving to Malashenko.
"It's great to see you again, Comrade Malashenko! Without your help we would never have won this war. We met once in Stalingrad. Do you remember me?"
Malashenko is not a person with a very good memory. He is even a little forgetful and can easily get into trouble.
But Malashenko can always remember those who have fought alongside him, such as the division commander Mavonov in front of him.