Everyone is destined to die. It may be heavier than Mount Tai or lighter than a feather. This is the difference.
Malashenko spent ten seconds to seriously consider the way he wanted to die, and finally chose to die on the ground where he fought as an upright Soviet hero. This would at least leave his name in the annals of history.
Rather than being captured by the scumbags of the SS to make soap or being smoked to death in gas chambers, the Soviet heroes who died in the Nazi concentration camps were not considered great.
Having done everything he should do, Malashenko returned to his tank, and the final moment was approaching, step by step.
Now, Malashenko needs a little time to do his last thing.
"What's that in your hand?"
Malashenko, who was sitting in his commander's seat, was fiddling with something in his hand. Iushkin, who had just lit a cigarette in his mouth, turned around and looked at the thing in Malashenko's hand.
The "unidentified object" raised questions.
"What do you mean? It's just a photo."
Malashenko's answer seemed a bit calm, but this aroused Iushkin's interest even more. He stretched out Malashenko's right hand obviously to take a look at what was in his hand.
Facing Iushkin's request, Malashenko did not refuse, and handed the thing in his hand to Iushkin's hand.
"Oh, so beautiful! Well... let me guess, this is Natalia, the fiancée of our comrade commander, she must be right!"
Before Iushkin finished speaking, Kirill, who was leaning on the other side of the gun block, also hurriedly bent down, got out from under the gun block and poked his head over, hoping to quickly catch a glimpse of the beauty of the commander's wife in the photo.
Allow.
Although the photo is in black and white and looks a little yellowed and old, the two young men in the photo, a man and a woman, are still smiling sincerely and brightly.
No one knows exactly when this photo was taken.
Malashenko, who had been searching for a long time from the memory he inherited, could only barely remember that this photo was taken with Natalie in the last few days before he officially joined the Red Army.
Taken during an outing in the outskirts of Moscow.
When I first came to this strange world, this photo appeared in front of me, which was the beginning of a love that traveled through time and space.
Now, I may have to leave this world soon. At the last moment of my life, Malashenko, who does not belong to this time and space, this world, the only person I can't let go of and still miss is this photo.
The girl on top.
In the world of later generations, Lin Jie, who had been immersed in the history of the Patriotic War in the library of Moscow State University, never remembered that he had seen a Soviet tank soldier named Malashenko, and even called him Nata
Leah's girl didn't have the slightest impression.
Maybe, everything should have ended in 1941...
The real Malashenko was already dead at that time, at least in history where no time traveler has ever arrived.
If this is the case, what will Natalya look like in the future?
Malashenko, who was leaning quietly on his captain's seat, was puffing away at the clouds and mist. He was quietly looking at the familiar steel ceiling above his head amid the mist, as if he was deep in thought or falling into a whirlpool of memories.
"I hope she can fall in love again with someone who can take care of her for the rest of her life. I just delayed a long-dead person for another two years to survive. It seems that what should come will eventually come...
..”
Malashenko's expression was very rare and something was not quite right.
When Iushkin, who originally had a smile on his face and held the photo in his hand, saw this scene, the smile on his face gradually disappeared and he gradually became silent.
At the last moment before this final moment, all the crew members of the No. 177 IS6 heavy tank knew very well.
The moment they swore was slowly coming to them, and there was no escape. Malashenko chose to die here and never surrender to the fascist invaders who came here specifically to burn, kill and loot.
And the comrades who had followed their comrade commander all the way since 1941, who had shared life and death and shared hardships to this day, also followed the resolute figure again without hesitation, embarking on the same road that was already on the cliff as before.
"Have you prepared your suicide note? It's best not to take it with you. It's best to give it to someone who is not a tank soldier for safekeeping, otherwise it will be burned to ashes. If you are not prepared, it is still too late to write it as soon as possible."
Malashenko's quiet words broke the brief silence, which was matched by Iushkin's disdainful grin again.
"I don't have any suicide note. My mother will hear the news in newspapers and radio that her son has died heroically for the Soviet Union, for the motherland, and for the people! I believe my mother will be proud of me. I do
When it comes to everything I have sworn under the red flag, my name will never be forgotten."
At first it was just a dismissive statement, but when Iushkin, who became more and more excited as he spoke, reached the end, Malashenko could clearly see Iushkin's eyes filled with tears.
.
It is said that it is for the sake of the righteousness of the motherland, but which child does not want to return to his hometown and return to his mother again?
Malashenko in this world is an orphan, which is why Malashenko, who feels the same way, was able to play with Natalia, who was bullied and ostracized since childhood.
Malashenko, who had no father or mother to speak of, was worried about Natalya in the distance, while Iushkin, who turned around and secretly wiped away the tears from his wet red eyes, remained silent.
Kirill, who was leaning against the ammunition rack at the rear end of the turret, was looking through the letters his mother had written to him. Seryosha, who was sitting in the driver's seat at the front of the car, was also taking one last look at the photos of his wife and young children.
, the No. 177 train crew suddenly fell into an unprecedented tranquility, and you could hear a pin drop.
That is to say, when Malashenko's mind returned to reality, he was about to say something and give an order. The tank that was parked quietly was suddenly knocked twice with something from outside, which sounded slightly boring.
The sound echoed in the silent car, and it was endless.
About five seconds later, the top cover of the commander's turret of the No. 177 IS6 heavy tank was pushed open, and Malashenko, who leaned half out, saw who was knocking on his precious car:
Major Varosha's right-hand man, Oleg, who looks a little fat.
"What's going on? Captain Oleg."
Faced with Malashenko's question, Oleg, who was standing next to the tank with a Bobosha submachine gun in his hand, first raised his finger and pointed in the direction behind him, and then spoke to Malashenko to answer.
"The Germans sent a small car over. There were four people. They raised their hands with white flags and did not carry any weapons. Comrade Brigadier asked to see our supreme commander by name. Varosha couldn't make up his mind and asked me