Since it was time for dinner, Malashenko suggested to get some food to fill his stomach first, and then chat while eating.
After all, no one can say for sure when it comes to war. Although Malashenko is 80% sure that it will be difficult for the Germans to launch a large-scale group attack this afternoon, it is only 80%, not completely sure.
Therefore, in line with the principle of being on the safe side, when it’s time to eat, it’s best to seize the time and eat immediately, lest the Germans really go crazy and start another swine rush. As a result, you are still carrying a lunch box in your hand on the way to get food. It’s really
If this is the case, be prepared to throw away your lunch box and go to war hungry. Even Comrade Brigade Commander is no exception.
However, although Major Varosha agreed with Malashenko's suggestion of chatting while eating, he originally thought that Malashenko would sit in the brigade headquarters in silence, waiting for the orderlies to bring the food to him.
Major Losa really didn't expect that Malashenko actually took out a lunch box and a set of tableware from his small canvas bag, and then waved directly towards him.
"Let's go, why are you still hanging there? Come and line up with me to get food."
Major Varosha did not bring a lunch box with him. Malashenko, who touched the stubble on his chin, thought for a moment, and then suddenly had an idea and found a "good substitute" for Major Varosha using local materials.
:A brand new helmet that is said to have never been used.
In fact, it is not uncommon to eat and drink with helmets. Both Malashenko and Varosha once did this: in Stalingrad, where it was considered good to save a life.
Malashenko had no idea where he had left the kettle and lunch box. He had no other choice but to dig out the food with his black hands that looked like he had just dug briquettes for three days and nights.
After going back and forth for a while, Malashenko couldn't find any good substitute, so he simply took off a blood-free helmet from the German's corpse, took it to the water, washed it casually, and rinsed it.
, just use this thing to drink water and eat.
But it only comes in handy if there is really food that can be packed in a lunch box. Most of the time Malashenko could only eat dry bread during his time in Stalingrad. Day after day, throughout Stalingrad
There were only a handful of fresh, hot meals eaten during the campaign.
Major Varosha's experience is similar to Malashenko's. They both fought in the dark during the Battle of Stalingrad. Somehow, they lost the kettle and lunch box hanging on their buttocks. Even if they think about it afterwards,
I can't remember exactly when I lost it, and I don't have the slightest memory of it.
For these two men who had also experienced the hell of life and death in Stalingrad, there was really no problem in using their helmets to drink water and eat, even if they were used by dead people.
What? Are you asking if you are not afraid of having dirty things on your body and giving you nightmares in the middle of the night?
Sorry, communist fighters are not afraid of the devil. If the ghost dares to come, Malashenko will dare to kill him with a hammer and sickle. Finally, he will use 122 cannons to wipe out even the scum left. That's it.
thorough.
The closest cooking point to the brigade headquarters was the Second Tank Battalion. Malashenko went out without thinking too much and led Varosha over there while chatting. After walking on the grass, the aroma of food could be smelled.
Floated over.
"Ah! This smells so good, Comrade Brigadier! I can smell it, it's the aroma of milk and cereal!"
Malashenko didn't quite believe it when he heard this. He thought to himself, "Why the hell did you smell it? I can't smell anything with my nose? I don't have a damn cold."
But when the two brothers actually arrived at the cooking point, Malashenko, whose eyes were almost wide-eyed, had to accept that the big pot in the field kitchen trailer was full of boiling things.
A steaming pot of milky cereal.
"Why is your nose so sharp? Why couldn't I smell it just now?"
"Ah, this..."
Major Varosha, who was looking into the pot, was unable to answer the question for a while. Malashenko, who was a little depressed, didn't say anything more in the end, assuming that Varosha's nose was really better than his own.
Make too much and get the job done.
The good friends Malashenko and Varosha murmured to each other, but the cook who was cooking the porridge was not so calm and suddenly became interested.
"Hey, comrade brigade commander! Why did you come to get food in person? I can send someone to deliver it to you, so you don't have to come in person."
As soon as he heard someone calling him, Malashenko looked around and immediately waved to the fat uncle in charge of the spoon. Uncle Ivan, who cooked delicious food in the whole brigade, was the one in front of him.
"Is there anything else to eat? Uncle Ivan, like meat?"
Not only does Uncle Ivan cook delicious food, but he is also a chubby and good-looking man who smiles all day long like Maitreya Buddha. If a young comrade is hungry and unable to sleep in the middle of the night and goes to Uncle Ivan, he will probably turn on a small stove secretly.
Once again, I was able to get two pieces of black bread from Uncle Ivan that would make me fall asleep with a full stomach, and I returned home satisfied.
After going back and forth, the reputation of Ivan, the cook squad leader of the 2nd Tank Battalion, as a good old man spread, and the young soldiers were happy to call this good old squad leader, who was almost the same generation as their fathers, Uncle Ivan.
The title was replaced by the name more often. Some soldiers from other battalions who didn't know what Uncle Ivan's name was also followed suit. Anyway, it was simple and convenient, and Uncle Ivan was also happy for everyone to call him this, which seemed cordial.
To be honest, Malashenko didn’t know what Uncle Ivan’s real name was because it was too long. He read it once in a report and soon forgot it. He only remembered that there was a name on the logistics kitchen of the Second Battalion.
Uncle Ivan's cooking was delicious, and he even made a special trip to eat there several times. By the way, he became familiar with Uncle Ivan, so that he could bring over some delicious food in the future.
It was okay for other soldiers to call themselves Uncle Ivan, which seemed cordial, but Comrade Malashenko, the brigade commander, also joined in calling him that. At first, Uncle Ivan was so frightened that he almost couldn't even do anything.
degree.
But after several reminders and persuasion to no avail, Malashenko remained the same, still calling "Uncle Ivan" casually...
There was so much shouting that in the end even Uncle Ivan was too embarrassed to remind Comrade Brigade Commander, so he just left it like that. After all, it wasn't a bad thing, was it?
Hearing the brigade commander's inquiry about the food he had prepared, Uncle Ivan, who had finally waited until the brigade commander happened to come to inspect at lunch time, immediately became interested and hurriedly, with that honest smile on his face, stretched out his hand to greet Malashen.
Co moved to the side next to another field kitchen trailer.
As soon as the lid of the thermos bucket was opened, Malashenko, who was holding the lunch box in his hand, immediately smelled a strong aroma of meat. This happy smell was far beyond the cold canned Yankee luncheon meat.
, just smelling it makes people drool.
"Potato beef stew, comrade brigade commander! Enough for the entire battalion to eat meat. Our brigade's ingredients are getting better day by day. It used to give me a headache when cooking, but it's completely different now!"
Indeed, the changes in Malashenko's unit, which was gloriously promoted to the 1st Heavy Tank Brigade of Stalin's Guards after holding the honorary title of Supreme Leader of the Soviet Union, are undoubtedly visible to the naked eye.
These changes are not only reflected in weapons and equipment and personnel replenishment, but also the food provided is getting better day by day. Basically, one or two meat meals are guaranteed every week.
If there is a tough battle to be fought, the food will be better. This is a political task personally issued by Political Commissar Petrov: the logistics and cooking troops of each combat camp must ensure that the soldiers can eat as much as they can before fighting the enemy.
The most delicious food under the conditions, even after returning from the war.
Malashenko, who felt like he was about to throw himself into the bucket, was drooling and could no longer hold back. He immediately opened the lid of the lunch box without saying a word and handed over his meal.
Varosha, who was holding a round steel helmet in his arms, didn't even drink the porridge anymore, and directly offered his own helmet-style lunch box with both hands, finishing the damn meat first.
Next, the two brothers Malashenko and Varosha, whose eyes were shining brightly, saw Uncle Ivan holding up the helmet in his hand with the same smile on his face.
The extra-large rice spoon. The handle of the wooden spoon alone was as thick as the pipe of a German Sanqi cannon. Obviously, this scene can no longer be described by the word "exhilarating".