The soaring artillery fire swept through the entire sky that turned fish belly white like a sea of fire. Chuikov's 8th Guards Army, including the leading division, used all its artillery fire with full firepower. The devastating artillery strikes resounded throughout the battlefield, almost destroying the entire battlefield.
The ground was overturned, and even below the Zero Highlands, the earth trembled by this destructive force could still be felt.
The immediate moment is different from many other battles.
At this moment, when the artillery preparations had begun and there was less than an hour left before launching the attack, Malashenko did not go to his command IS7 vehicle and enter the command position to prepare for battle.
Still staying in the division headquarters camp, sitting at the table, holding in his hand a "gift" that was delivered by express post last night.
"I have thought about what kind of gift I should give you for a long time, but I think I may never be able to come up with the final answer, my dear. I have too many words and thoughts that I want to express to you,
It seems that no gift can express the deep emotion in my heart."
"You once said that my singing is a soul medicine that can heal the wounds of war. I am really happy that you can say that, dear. I was so happy for this that I couldn't sleep for several nights. At the end of my hesitation, I
I thought about this and what you once said to me, so I made a decision to ask the comrades of the song and dance troupe to help me fulfill this little wish."
"You once said that singing is the best way to convey emotions and communicate with the soul. I still remember when you accompanied me on the harmonica under the night sky, the feeling of our souls entwining together like plant roots. We
Hugging each other tightly, nothing can separate us. I am really grateful to have such a moment that is imprinted in my memory and explains the meaning of happiness to me."
"I'm not sure whether this is a meaningful gift for you, my dear, but I have poured all my thoughts, love and concern for you into this song. I
I will always wait for you to come back under the city of Moscow and in our home, and continue to write our love and our story with the singing of the soul ensemble."
"."
This ends the brief letter home. There is no need to guess too much. There is only one person who can send such a letter to Malashenko from far away Moscow. There will be no other person except the beautiful daughter-in-law Natalia.
.
Almost every time he wrote home, Malashenko could feel Natalia's strong longing and deep love for him, and this was true at any time from 1941 to 1945.
This made Malashenko, who had picked up this body for nothing, feel ashamed and too heavy to bear. This sincere and holy love was so pure and flawless that Malashenko had always regarded himself as an outsider.
Ke couldn't convince himself to touch it, let alone integrate into it with this inherited body identity.
Later, as time passed, Malashenko began to gradually realize that this was a trust, a responsibility that only he could bear, and a story that only he could continue.
No one can do it except yourself.
Malashenko, who strengthened his will and shouldered this responsibility, finally chose the path to happiness, instead of watching this beautiful and sweet story that had been written about his entire childhood and youth fall into pieces.
tragedy.
Now, Malashenko clearly knows that this is probably the last letter he will receive from home before the end of the war.
The next confession of love will no longer be expressed in the form of words. Malashenko firmly believes in this and is convinced that he will be able to go back alive, and he must go back alive.
We have persisted until now, and we must not fall at the last moment before leading to a better future. Isn’t this the purpose of our long and arduous efforts?
Slowly putting down the home letter with gentle and beautiful handwriting, Malashenko's sight moved to another item on the table at hand, which was the "gift" mentioned by Natalia in the letter: a piece of
A personal performance record given to her by the only man she loves in this life. All the love and longing are just as stated in the letter. They are sealed in the songs in the record, waiting for Malashenko to open them.
"Hey! The German guy's butt was blown up into a tree. Are you sure you don't want to come out quickly? The entire Zero Highlands is about to turn into a mountain of flames. How about getting ready now? There is not much time left."
The more lively Iushkin was with Malashenko, the more he looked like a tease. He opened the curtain of the camp tent, stood at the door and yelled inside. Malashenko, who was sitting at the desk, just took the food without looking back.
He picked up the gifts on the table, put away the family letters, and while turning around, he quietly spoke to Iushkin with firm eyes and a tone of voice.
"Come on, the show is about to begin, let's go!"
Malashenko, who had just stepped out of the tent, was followed closely by Iushkin. Without waiting for the latter to say anything, Malashenko just handed the "gift" in his hand to Iushkin silently.
"Tell Karamov to get me a record player. I need it immediately. I know he has one ready to use. I have seized more than one from the headquarters of the German generals who were just eating nothing. Don't follow this one."
It is hidden away like a treasure and used when needed. Now is the time."
"Give this thing to him and bring it with the record player. I want to play it in the open air and let him pack it up and send it to the starting position."
Malashenko's order was a bit strange, but Iushkin couldn't pay attention to it for the time being. The curious Iushkin just looked down at the handwriting on the cover of the record he just took in his hand, feeling slightly surprised.
Then he spoke.
"This song. Are you sure you want to play this later? Does it have any special meaning?"
Malashenko, who wanted to leave some suspense and seize the time to avoid missing things, did not answer. He just raised his foot and kicked Iushkin's butt without saying a word, and spoke again with a smile and curse.
"Go as soon as I ask you to go. Why are there so many problems? Are you a primary school student?"
"Go ahead and kick my ass. My dad has never kicked my ass."
With some reluctance and muttering, Iushkin took the order and left. He could also understand the importance of Malashenko being in a hurry at the moment, so he moved very quickly.
Malashenko, who sent Iushkin out to do things, did not stop and continued to stride towards the set destination, the location of his command vehicle, which was the starting point for the attack later.
An unstoppable red storm is about to hit violently.