It was not long ago that Malashenko, who had been fighting until just now, suddenly realized a serious problem after looking around. He actually didn't have a tank that he could still command anymore!
At least in the area within sight, not a single Stalin heavy tank can continue to maintain a fighting posture. Apart from the burning steel wreckage after being destroyed, there are only abandoned vehicles that have stood still after being abandoned.
Steel figure.
Malashenko originally planned to call on the remaining tanks under his command to kill the German's Orange Cat, but the situation that not a single tank was left was obviously unexpected.
At this point, the only option was to continue retreating in the direction of Lavrinenko. Malashenko hoped that his good brothers would still have tanks that could go into battle.
Otherwise, if we have to kill this damn German big orange cat, we don’t know how many soldiers’ lives will be involved. The move of rushing up directly with the explosive pack is too showy, Malashenko can say nothing.
Such an order would not be given to the soldiers.
Seeing Varosha take the order with a worried figure that turned around three times a step, he gritted his teeth and stood up, holding on to his waist that felt like it was about to break and his chest that felt like it was tearing.
Knowing that he was probably injured internally, Malashenko had no time to worry about much else. At such a critical moment of life and death, he had to continue to do something, otherwise there would really be only death waiting for him.
"You have to inform Commander Suvorov that we can't hold on here any longer..."
Having made up his mind, Malashenko looked around for his target, and finally saw Division Commander Suvorov fighting with his division personnel behind a trench.
Malashenko, who was about to run over quickly, had no time to take action when he saw a howling shell coming from nowhere with a shrill scream, and the initiation fell on the horse, and time stopped for a moment.
Rashenko only felt as if the whole world had been stretched infinitely.
boom--
"..."
Malashenko, who had just taken the first step, was stunned on the spot.
The mortar shells flew from who knows where and landed just outside the trench in front of Division Commander Suvorov, very close to him, and exploded with a loud bang.
There was a burst of flying dust and rocks, and Malashenko saw the tall figure about the same height as himself falling straight down. The big-brimmed military hat on his head and the Bobosha submachine gun he had been holding in his hand seemed to have had his soul taken away.
He fell to the ground like a puppet, his pupils dilated for a moment, and Malashenko, with his eyes wide open, immediately rushed forward without saying a word.
"Son of a bitch! These stupid bastards!"
Malashenko, who witnessed this scene so close to his eyes, was instantly furious. The pile of dead people lying on the ground included Division Commander Suvorov, whose life and death were unknown, as well as his adjutant, the guard company commander,
And his political commissar partner.
Holding the gun belt, he threw Somi behind his back and carried it on his back. Malashenko, holding on to the last glimmer of hope, ran forward, stretched out his arms to lift him up, and lay on his back, covered in blood.
Commander Suvorov’s firm belief that he would never abandon his comrades still remains today.
"Malashenko...is it Malashenko?"
Commander Suvorov, who was muttering a lot of blood in his throat, had not yet breathed his last on the spot. Driven by his last remaining vitality, he was still asking questions.
"Yes! It's me, comrade division commander, Malashenko is here!"
"Pfft...cough...damn Fasis! I can't even see my eyes, cough...cough..."
The scattered shell fragments not only seriously injured Division Commander Suvorov's body, but also caused his eyes to bleed and his flesh and blood were blurred.
Through the vague flesh and blood, Malashenko could even see that there was nothing in the deep-set eye sockets. No one knew what Commander Suvorov experienced at the moment of the explosion.
The blood kept pouring out of his throat more and more because he opened his mouth to speak, but even so, Commander Suvorov did not stop there.
"Take this, Malashenko! I have fallen, but the Red Army, the Guards of our heroes must not fall! From now on... poof... you, you are
Commander of the 9th Guards Airborne Division, I hand over the command to you! Lead the comrades to continue fighting, and we must fight the fascists to the end! There will not be a single Red Army soldier who surrenders to the enemy today!"
Human life is fragile and often only lasts for a moment that is difficult to estimate in advance.
His blood-stained right hand tightly grasped the Nagant revolver that Division Commander Suvorov handed to him before his death.
Malashenko, who once again experienced taking over the unfinished burden from his fallen comrades, gently put down the body of Division Commander Suvorov in his arms. Even the roots of his teeth were trembling with hatred.
Eat those fascists alive.
"Comrade Brigadier, Comrade Brigadier!"
Before he could do anything else, Malashenko heard someone calling his name. When he glanced in the direction of the sound, he found that the person who came was the one he sent to lead the retreat.
Valosha.
"Why are you back again!? Didn't I ask you to prepare to retreat?"
Malashenko leaned on the trench wall behind him to temporarily take cover. He almost lost the comrade commander and the three Iushkin brothers, but almost arrived at Malashenko together with Varosha, who was jogging closely.
beside.
"Comrade Deputy Brigade Commander and others have also been repelled and are approaching us! Oleg told me this personally. I just ran to confirm it! What should we do now? Comrade Brigade Commander!"
"..."
The moment he heard that Lavrinenko's situation was as bad as his own, Malashenko's face did not show much surprise.
Silently, he lowered his head and looked at the blood-stained Nagant revolver in his hand. What echoed in his ears were the German commands that were so close that he could clearly hear the content.
When Malashenko opened his eyes again after his eyes were slightly closed for less than two seconds, the soul living in the body no longer pursued any way or hope of living, only the fire of hatred in his eyes.
Burning.
"Hold the gun and load it!"
With extreme calmness and strong hatred, Malashenko raised his right hand holding the gun, which was full of blood. He never imagined that one day he would command the battle in this way, let alone that he would direct the battle in such a way.
Step towards the end of life.
"Guards! For the sake of the motherland, attack! Ula!!!"
A roar with arms raised covered the sound of all the guns and artillery around it and resounded throughout the battlefield. The SS soldiers who were attacking in an orderly manner in a skirmish line heard this sudden cry. Anyone who knows what "Ula" means
The veteran immediately trembled all over and immediately became more energetic. He gripped the weapon in his hand and opened his eyes wide.
Most of the SS soldiers participating in the attack thought that their opponents were almost dead, but it turned out that "thinking" was just "thinking" and could not replace the reality. Like a tide, a group of people jumped out from under the trench in front of them and the broken walls in an instant.
A large group of enemies instantly shattered the victory that the SS soldiers thought was close at hand.
"Stop them! Shoot, shoot, shoot!"
The panicked SS soldiers raised their guns and fired, but they were so close that they could even hear each other shouting orders. The battle at a distance could no longer be solved with guns alone.
The Red Army soldiers at the front were hit by the entire row and fell in a pool of blood. However, more Red Army soldiers continued to charge with deafening roars. The SS soldiers were in an offensive formation rather than a defensive position.
It was soon thrust into his face. The era of hot weapons was the cruelest, and the close-quarters hand-to-hand combat that burned blood and will began again.
Malashenko, who was in the charge team, fulfilled his oath and fulfilled his last promise to Division Commander Suvorov before his death.
The Somi submachine gun in his hand sprayed with fury, knocking down all the SS soldiers within sight. Even the aim was directly erased by the hip shot, which quickly emptied the drum, and the sound of the firing pin hitting the barrel was heard.
There is no more ammunition in it.
"Ah ah--"
An SS soldier who saw the opportunity rushed over with a Mauser 98k with a bayonet in his hand, screaming strangely. Malashenko, who had no more prepared drums, held the hot barrel of the gun with his backhand and pressed hard.
The Somi submachine gun he swung around and threw hit the SS soldier's face directly, and his huge hand knocked him upside down on the spot.
"Fuck you son of a bitch!"
Bang bang bang——
He pulled out his Tokarev TT33 pistol from the holster on his waist and fired three times. The SS soldier who was hit with blood on his face and was struggling to get up died on the spot and became motionless.
With his free left hand, he once again took out the bloody Nagant revolver from his belt. Malashenko, with Tokarev in his right hand and Nagant revolver in his left hand, directly entered the dual-gun state, and never used it again.
He has carried out this battle that may well be his last with the attitude he has had before.
"Come on, Comrade Commander! Let's kill all these fascist pigs together!"
Bang-bang-bang——
The unique gunshots of Nagant's revolver and Tokarev's gunfire alternated, and one after another the SS soldiers who were fighting in close combat with the Red Army soldiers were shot and fell to the ground.
The crazy opponent, who did not have any iconic features on his body, only wore a simple and tattered tank soldier's uniform and a tank cap, quickly attracted the attention of the SS commander.
"That's...that's the Malashenko! There's no mistake, I remember! It's him!"
Enemies often meet on a narrow road. At this moment, Malashenko has not yet realized that the commander of the enemy in front of him is the SS who was sprayed bloody by him not long ago.
First-level commando captain of the army!
The leader of the SS First Class Assault Battalion, who had confirmed the opponent's identity, was extremely excited. A sinister smile appeared on his face behind a broken wall and ruins. He raised his right hand out of thin air and then stretched it out in front of the guard who was protecting him.
.
"Give me the rifle and load it!"
The rifleman in charge of the personal guard immediately complied and handed over the Mauser 98k rifle with the magazine already filled with bullets.
"Haha, let's see how stubborn you, a dirty Russian guy, are going to be later."
With a smooth and quick action of pulling the bolt and loading the bullet, he instantly pushed the Mauser 98k bullet in his hand into the chamber. He narrowed his left eye and put the crosshair firmly on the prey in a standard three-point-one-line shooting kneeling position, smiling evilly.
The captain of the SS First Class Assault Group, who was getting more and more popular, immediately pulled the trigger without any hesitation.
boom--
The crisp and long sound of gunshots streaked across the sky. On a battlefield where close combat was common, submachine gunshots were rare, and rifle sounds were almost non-existent, it seemed so abrupt and without warning.
The Nagant revolver in the left hand has emptied the magazine, and the Tokarev in the right hand has the slide rebounded.
Malashenko, who had emptied all the bullets, slowly lowered his head and looked at the wound on the right side of his abdomen where the military uniform was smashed and blood was gushing. He felt that his body, which had lost a lot of strength in an instant, could no longer hold on.
He stopped and knelt on the ground, but his strong will, which refused to completely collapse, still forced his left hand to support the ground, preventing him from completely falling down.
The shouts of killing around me are gradually fading away, and the gunshots that come and go are becoming less and less.
With blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Malashenko lowered his head and faced the earth. His originally clear consciousness was becoming increasingly blurry, until the arrogant and domineering footsteps and familiar tone in front of him sounded again.
"Look who this dog-like guy is? All your people are almost dead, Russian pig! A bunch of incompetent and brainwashed idiots and trash!"
Malashenko, whose whole chin was covered with blood, slowly raised his head and saw the SS First Class Assault Group Captain in front of him who he had told harsh words that he must kill with his own hands. He said nothing and had an expressionless face.
The head, like a dying patient, quietly lowered again.
"Don't worry, I'll send you to see your bunch of brainwashed idiot pig buddies right now!"
The shadow with his back to the sun was reflected in Malashenko's field of vision. He had already raised the gun in his hand. His right hand, which was covered with sticky wet blood, had already calmly released the empty magazine of the Toka.
Lev pistol, replaced by a flat-head razor often used by Soviet carpenters to do manual wood work and smooth the surface of the wood block.
The flat blade head, which resembled a hammerhead shark, was even stained with flowing blood from a previous Red Army soldier who had used it to kill an enemy. This knife was the last hope in the hands of Malashenko, who had no more weapons to use.
The reflection holding the Luger pistol was already motionless. Malashenko, who was holding the handle of the knife, used his last strength to suddenly burst out. He swung his left fist outward and instantly knocked away the Luger who was pointing at his head.
Pistol, he pulled the trigger in panic, and the bullet fired crossed Malashenko's shoulder and hit the soil behind him.
His left hand came forward with a claw and grabbed the opponent's throat tightly. His right hand, which was holding the flat razor tightly, used all the strength he could mobilize to stab it hard. It wouldn't be able to cut iron like clay, but at least it could cut flesh.
The flat-headed razor cut through the broken bones with a rush of blood, without any sloppiness.
After a burst of blood spurting into the sky, what fell was the headless corpse as predicted earlier.
Malashenko, who was still holding the good man's head tightly in his left hand, followed closely before the SS guards who had been in shock and panic for a moment came to their senses and could no longer support their heavy bodies.
, and fell heavily to the ground.
"Fuck you idiot Fasis, I...I told you to wash your neck, and you will definitely do what you say...do what you say...do...to..."
Maybe it's the last hallucination before death, or maybe it's the scene that can only be seen after the soul leaves the body and leaves the body.
Before the darkness completely swallowed up his complete consciousness, Malashenko seemed to see countless Red Army soldiers advancing one after another, shouting slogans and charging heroically from the direction with his back.
One after another, the T34 medium tanks smashed through the wreckage of the SS tanks. The IL-2 attack aircraft and Figure 2 tactical bombers in the sky seemed to be able to block the sky and the sun.
Varosha, Iushkin, Kirill, and Seryosha, the echoing sounds of hurriedly rushing in and crying out their names sadly, finally disappeared with lingering echoes.