Malashenko, who was holding the phone in his hand, did not wait long. Karamov from the other end of the phone quickly gave the answer.
"It's a batch of new light weapons, Comrade Division Commander. Well... I opened one of the boxes and looked at it. It's in my hand now... I don't know how to describe this gun. I have never seen it before.
I’ve seen similar weapons.”
"It is one size larger than a submachine gun and one size smaller than a light machine gun. It has a very long curved ammunition supply. It seems to have a large ammunition capacity, but the size of the bullets is much larger than that of a submachine gun. It is more like a rifle or a machine gun.
The bullets used..."
Karamov has never lied to Malashenko, and it was the same this time.
At this moment, he was holding a telephone in one hand and a strange weapon that he had never seen before in the other hand. The whole gun looked like a mixture of a submachine gun and a light machine gun. No Bobo was used.
It uses a drum magazine like Bobo Sand to feed ammunition, but uses a long curved magazine similar to Bobo Sand 43.
It's just that the size of this bullet is obviously much larger than that of ordinary submachine gun bullets, longer and thicker, and the bullet is not round but pointed. It feels quite heavy and heavy when weighed in the hand. But compared to Zhengerba
Compared with conventional rifle bullets and machine gun bullets, they are slightly shorter.
Karamov, who asked himself that he was quite proficient in all kinds of enemy and friendly firearms, really couldn't tell what kind of weapon the rather large thing in his hand belonged to.
Karamov doesn't know the truth behind it, but that doesn't mean that Malashenko, the initiator of all this, doesn't know it either.
Through Karamov's brief and straightforward description, Malashenko roughly understood what this new light weapon, which he had not seen yet, looked like and what its elusive specific features were.
.
All the descriptions point to a common answer briefly and straightforwardly: Kalashnikov and Kotin have probably really got things done! If this batch of newly delivered weapons is not
AK, then Malashenko really can’t think of any other new gadgets that look like what Karamov described.
How excited is Malashenko at this moment? It can almost be said that he cannot suppress it.
It is no exaggeration to say that Malashenko even feels that his right hand holding the phone is shaking!
I’m going to have an AK! These stupid German guys should clean my neck and wait for death! No matter what 98K, MP38, MP40 they are all crawling! This time they are really going from light weapons to heavy weapons.
It's a 360-degree, all-round, no-dead-angle shot.
"Keep things in check for me! No one is allowed to touch them before I arrive! If anyone dares to come here, send your people to arrest them first. I'll leave right now and I'll be there soon!"
Malashenko put down the phone and was about to leave quickly. He was quite impatient, but he did not expect that Comrade Political Commissar would take the initiative to take a step forward at this time.
"What happened? Why are you so impatient?"
Now that everything has been revealed, there is no need to hide anything anymore. The crisp Malashenko answered directly to the political commissar without thinking.
"The new batch of guns I just told you about have just been delivered to Karamov. This matter is very important. I have to go over and see for myself immediately. Do you... do you want to come with me?"
I don’t know how, for some reason, Malashenko subconsciously sent an invitation to the political commissar comrades, as if to see if the political commissar comrades wanted to come over and take a look at the new gadgets that he had worked on under his leadership.
The reason for this is not even clear to Malashenko himself, but there are some things that you don’t need to care about the reasons for. In short, you just put them into practice without thinking. It’s that simple.
"Already delivered? So soon?"
"Um......"
Malashenko spoke softly, nodded in reply, and picked up the military coat placed on the hanger at the door of the tent nearby. Comrade Political Commissar gave the answer immediately after thinking briefly.
"No problem, I'll go with you. I happen to be very interested in it myself."
"You wait for me here for a moment, I will arrange the work. There are some reports and documents that need to be processed. I will arrange to transfer them to other people. They will be ready soon..."
Even if he is terminally ill and has little time left, the political commissar is still responsible for a lot of work and a wide variety of tasks.
There are too many trivial and important matters in the division headquarters that the political commissar comrades cannot worry about.
Not only because of his own mission, but also because of his responsibility to Comrade Malashenko and the division commander. Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, whose health is getting worse day by day, continues to work like this, fighting on this smokeless but extremely important front.
I never said I should give up voluntarily.
Malashenko, who was leaning against the door of the tent, lit a cigarette for himself. The lighter he had snatched from the corpse of the German colonel earlier was not very easy to use. It might have been used for too long and was too worn out. He tried it several times.
Malashenko finally had a spark when he pressed the button for the eighth time.
"Damn, this German guy's rag is probably going to retire soon, so he needs to prepare a new one in advance..."
While muttering in his mouth, he raised his head and saw the busy figure of Comrade Political Commissar, who was directing a group of staff to arrange work.
Seeing such a scene, Malashenko suddenly felt a sense of emotion. He felt a little dazed for no reason. He didn't know how long such a scene could stay with him or appear in his eyes.
Malashenko was really worried and could even be said to be scared. One day, such a scene suddenly would not happen again, and no one would take care of the mess in the division. From then on, the person he respected and cherished was completely gone.
Farewell to this world, never to be seen again.
People often say that only when you lose can you learn to cherish, but what Malashenko wants to say is that he has lost too much, time and time again. He cherishes everything in front of him even more, and even values these things more than his own life.
You must also cherish your preciousness, as some subtle changes have long been imposed on yourself.
But why do I have to endure such painful things bit by bit as if I was being punished, but there is no way to change it, and there is nothing I can do. Does something called ridicule really exist in this world? Malashenko sometimes
It feels like the whole world is silently mocking me, as if the greater my ability, the more real this mockery becomes.
"Look, what can the hero of the Soviet Union, the young tank general, do? He still can't protect the most important person around him. As always, he is like a waste, more like a clown..."