The little soldier who said this to Malashenko was very young, very, very young, and even had a layer of slightly immature hair on his face. Malashenko knew at a glance that this soldier must be even better than himself. Much smaller.
"How old are you this year? Comrade."
Comrade Commander's tone was as usual, and the young soldier felt warm in his heart after hearing this, as if he was not talking to a superior but to a big brother next door.
"Comrade Division Commander, next month will be my 19th birthday. I only joined the army this year."
"oh?"
Hearing this answer, Malashenko suddenly became interested. He had just joined the army when he was less than 19 years old, and he could be assigned to serve in the First Tank Division of Stalin's Guards. This was something that spread in his hometown, which was enough to make his family feel embarrassed. A matter of light.
If nothing else, just adding the title of Guard to the leader's name is enough to make others envious.
"Then there must be something particularly powerful about you. There are not many young soldiers in our division who are less than 19 years old."
Looking at the gentle smile on his face, the little soldier holding Bobosha scratched his head in embarrassment.
"My father and brother once fought for our motherland under your leadership. When it was time for me to go to the front line, I applied. Unexpectedly, I was successful."
"...So that's it. Which regiment are your father and brother in? Are they with you?"
At this moment, Malashenko didn't notice the change in the little soldier's face and expression at all, and just treated it as a casual question.
"My father and brother, they... they both died. My father died in Moscow, and my brother died in Stalingrad. They both served in your first tank battalion or regiment, and they were all tank soldiers. It's a pity that I I can’t even drive a tractor, I haven’t received any professional training, I’m just an ordinary submachine gunner..."
"..."
Malashenko thought about many possibilities, but he never expected that the final result would be like this. After hearing such an answer, he felt inexplicably speechless and felt a little crazy for a while.
"May I have your name?"
About ten seconds later, Malashenko, who spoke again, finally asked such a question.
"Vladimir Kasimov, comrade division commander."
The little soldier answered without any hesitation, while Malashenko responded thoughtfully.
"Kasimov...I remember, go and carry out your mission."
"Yes, Comrade Commander!"
Looking at the back of the little soldier who continued to escort the prisoners of war away, Malashenko, whose eyes were narrowed in thought, suddenly felt a little lost.
"I really hope this can all end soon, the sooner the better..."
Brutally killing wars are always accompanied by constant loss of people. Similar experiences are not unique to that little soldier. Malashenko has also felt the same way many times.
Every time you lose an important person, you will feel unforgettable pain. The scars are opened again and again. The bloody wounds not only have to bear the remnants of the last pain, but also have to be sprinkled with new ones that hurt the soul. Deep salt.
Maybe there really are people who like war, love war so much that if they don’t fight, they feel uncomfortable all over and feel as if they are about to die. But this kind of person is definitely not Malashenko, not in the past, not now, and not in the future. will be.
Putting aside the Hero of the Soviet Union and the well-known tank general who was personally received by Comrade Stalin, Malashenko is just an ordinary person who wants to live a peaceful life. Comrade Ma also wants to have a warm bed with his wife and children, and sleep naturally on his days off.
When you wake up, you can still do some pleasant things with your beautiful wife at night. Who the hell can expect to spend all your time in contact with others?
After watching the young soldier go, Malashenko jumped out of his car and landed on the ground.
There were still many things to do next, so Malashenko decided to look around first to understand the specific conditions of the battlefield ruins, which would also make it easier for him to figure out more details.
"It's damn late to say it's late. These Figure 2s were blown up and nothing was left. It's probably difficult to even capture a German tank that can still be driven..."
In the middle and late stages of the air raid, the Figure 2 bomber group, which was hovering over the battlefield like death vultures, had changed its target to the grouped German infantry.
The reason why this happened was not to bomb the infantry specifically. To use 500 kilogram aerial bombs to kill a dozen or so small soldiers would be a loss no matter how you calculated it. The reason why the infantry was bombed was because those who were higher
All valuable targets had been blown up, and apart from the endless remains of vehicles, only infantry remained on the battlefield.
Perhaps there were more Germans waiting to be bombed in the not-so-distant front, but the Figure 2 bombers, whose mission was to cooperate with the ground forces to cover the attack and clear obstacles for them to open an attack path, only targeted this group.
The Germans at the rear used all their weapons and belongings, and after an indiscriminate bombardment, only wreckage and corpses were left on the ground, waiting for the friendly troops on the ground to come and harvest them.
The final result was the scene before Malashenko's eyes.
The front and body of the Lightning Opel truck were blown apart, and the bodies were separated by at least twenty meters. The dark, charred mass of twisted and deformed metal should be a German Panzer IV tank. Unfortunately, even the turret is now gone.
It disappeared, leaving only the twisted metal wreckage that was almost unrecognizable as the car body.
Like moon craters, there are countless craters scattered around the battlefield, and there are countless wreckage of German vehicles. Quite a few of them can't even be identified as what they were originally. Who knows what lumps of metal they are.
Is the object a tank, a truck, or something like the German's unique barrel truck?
Not only were the wreckage of vehicles and combat vehicles, but the corpses of German soldiers were also lying on the ground, everywhere.
Some of them looked relatively complete, and they were probably corpses that had been shocked to death, while some of the unlucky ones were dismembered on the spot by 500-kilogram aerial bombs and scattered in all directions. Even the whole body could not be found, and the corpses were not collected.
Know who this is.
He opened his legs and stepped over the half-piece corpse at his feet, which looked like half a piece of freshly killed pork in a slaughterhouse. Malashenko, who had been accustomed to this situation since Stalingrad, didn't even have the slightest trace of it on his face.
His expression was untouched, and the strong smell of blood in the air couldn't make Comrade Ma frown even a little bit on his face.
"No, these are all corpses of the Wehrmacht, not the SS! These stupid Viking bastards are still ahead!"