Malashenko, who officially returned to the front line, found with some despair that the number of things he had to deal with was simply beyond imagination.
Sitting behind his desk, Malashenko stared blankly at the pile of documents on the table in front of him, spread his hands and asked the political commissar comrade who was in charge of guiding the work on the spot.
"This... Do I need to personally review and handle all of this? This is almost comparable to the library of Moscow State University. I have never seen so many documents that I need to handle."
Malashenko hates these scattered and trivial things. In the past, almost all of them were handled by Petrov's political commissar. Malashenko had a headache when he saw these various reports and documents. He always hid whenever he could.
If you go to see it, you will definitely not see it.
Although he had always allowed Malashenko to follow his own temperament and ideas, this time, Political Commissar Petrov was somewhat resolute and decisive.
"These are the reorganization of the troops. This pile is the detailed parameter information and receipt reports of various new technical equipment that have arrived in these days. These are the specific loss lists and casualty summary reports from the last battle. Here is your
The various telegrams we sent and received during our absence include those from our superiors and some friendly forces."
"There is also this pile. These are the summary reports and records of various major meetings held by the division during your absence. Some of them are required by your superiors to study. I have marked them with red marks on the cover for you.
And this pile, this is..."
"Wait, stop! Stop first!"
Malashenko, who felt that his whole body was about to burst, raised his hands to signal the political commissar to stop first. Let alone the table full of documents, if he really wanted to read them one by one, when would he be able to finish reading them? First of all, just
Comrade Political Commissar's continuous introduction and chatter had already made Malashenko's head explode.
"Okay, I'll take a look at the things here. Pick up the important ones first and tell me what is the highest priority and needs me to deal with immediately."
I had already guessed that Malashenko, who was not good at clerical work, would definitely behave like this. From the beginning, I had no intention of letting Malashenko go through them one by one. I just briefly reviewed them, at least to let Malashenko know that this was the case.
I have a rough classification in my mind.
Political Commissar Petrov, who was speaking with a smile, reached out from the pile of documents and pulled out a folder specially placed in a conspicuous position, turned around and handed it to Malashenko.
"This copy is from the front army headquarters."
"Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to tell you. Our division is now affiliated with the First Ukrainian Front, and the commander is your old acquaintance, Comrade Vatutin. In addition to requiring our division to go to the front line immediately after receiving the equipment, the superiors also asked
As soon as you, the division commander, take office, you will immediately report to the front army headquarters, attend combat meetings, and receive combat missions. Do you want to leave immediately?"
Malashenko, who took the document from the political commissar Petrov, flipped through it and read it quickly. The content described above is just a little more detailed than the summary of Comrade Political Commissar, and there is no essential difference.
Realizing that he had to start again before his butt was covered with heat, Malashenko sighed, thinking that returning to the front line a day early was not necessarily a good thing.
"I can't help it. It's clearly written on it. I can't do it if I don't go."
"Prepare a car for me immediately. The snow shouldn't fall too much now. I'll eat something and take some important documents I'll read on the way. By the way, how far is the front army headquarters from us now?
?How long will it take for me to get there?"
Political Commissar Petrov, who had already planned the itinerary for Malashenko and planned the route in advance, was naturally confident and gave Malashenko the answer without thinking.
"Don't think about driving there tonight. Let the car take you to the nearest field airport. The journey only takes two hours. Take the order from the Front Army Headquarters and find a plane to fly there directly. I have notified the airport in advance.
They will be ready in the next few days when you come back, so there shouldn't be any big problems."
Following the direction of Commissar Petrov's finger, Malashenko looked at the map and basically figured out a rough route, but then a question came out of his mouth.
"You clean up, we both go together and leave the division headquarters to Lavrinenko."
Malashenko expected that the military-level combat meeting would not be so simple, but he did not want to suffer alone. Commissar Petrov was good at handling documents and recording meeting minutes.
In the past, many meetings where non-military chiefs had to attend were usually attended by political commissar Petrov. Malashenko felt that the staff officers and other things he brought with him were not designated as political commissars.
Political Commissar Petrov, who had not seen Malashenko for a long time, did not evade any unnecessary excuses. He just nodded and agreed to Malashenko's request, and then began to prepare the necessary things.
and related documents.
Malashenko, who barely made it in time for lunch, set off as soon as he filled his stomach. Iushkin and Kirill were left behind, waiting in the snow in the winter.
The new car is about to be delivered, and Kong is drooling.
Before leaving, Malashenko, who saw Iushkin's idiotic look, thought that Iushkin would have to sleep with his IS4 in his arms tonight if he couldn't protect himself. This was not a joke but a real possibility. God knows, this is getting more and more scandalous.
What kind of things can Xiang's bad boy do?
In terms of obsession with tanks, no one in the entire crew dared to admit he was more obsessed with tanks than Iushkin, just as he said himself.
"Comrade Commander, if Tank can turn into a girl, I will definitely marry her and marry her!"
Malashenko still remembers how he responded and almost choked Iushkin half to death.
"Then what? If you and your tank wife have a bunch of little tanks that drink diesel, you will really have them."
Malashenko couldn't help but laugh out loud when he thought of this. He sat on the cabin seat of the Li-2 transport plane that had already started taxiing on the runway and shook his head. Political Commissar Petrov, who was sitting next to him, looked at it with some curiosity.
"What's wrong? What are you laughing at?"
"It's nothing, I remembered something happy."
Comrade Political Commissar looked puzzled.
"What happy thing?"
"Iushkin said he wanted to marry a tank. I asked him if he wanted to give birth to a bunch of tank sons. He would be fed diesel and drink diesel. When he grows up, he would be able to eat armor-piercing bullets by himself. He would also call him daddy. Hahahaha.
Ha ha......."
Malashenko, who felt so hilarious when he said it, couldn't hold it back any longer and started laughing on the spot. Political Commissar Petrov, who quickly came to his senses with his head bent, couldn't help but shake his head and laugh.
Malashenko's slightly louder voice caused more than a dozen other comrades from friendly forces in the cabin, who were also going to the front army headquarters, to laugh together, and everyone heard the scream clearly.
The special plane flying to the headquarters of the First Ukrainian Front was filled with joy for a while.