As long as he can speak in a friendly manner, Malashenko generally does not like to quarrel with others. After all, it takes a lot of effort to quarrel but cannot solve the problem.
With Malashenko's good talk first, the ordinary German soldier who had never seen much of the world calmed down, and then even asked the tall man in front of him a surprised question.
"Are you Malashenko? The "Iron Butcher"?"
As soon as the words came out, I felt something was wrong. This ordinary German soldier suddenly began to regret it. After all, the nickname "Iron Butcher" sounded so bloody that it really didn't sound good, right? What if the man in front of me had such a bad temper?
When he came up and ordered to be pulled out to give him a chance, he was responsible for the death of the regiment leader. He could have survived.
Malashenko didn't know what was going on in this little German guy's head, but he just thought it was really fun to ask him this question.
"I didn't expect that any German soldier caught on the street would know my name. It seems that I and my nickname are quite famous."
It is true that Malashenko knows a lot of things.
But what Malashenko didn't know was that his name had long been "famous and evil" among the Germans.
The bastard German veterans would use Malashenko to scare new recruits, saying things like "If you beep again, I'll feed you to the steel butcher", it's almost a joke. The same is true in the propaganda manual issued internally by the SS.
It also has Malashenko's name on it, and it also comes with a photo. If you kill the guy in the photo, you will get an Iron Cross and a lot of money. The reward is as high as 300,000 Reichsmarks. If you scrape together a few more, you can buy one.
A King Tiger tank.
It is said that it was a private reward initiated by Himmler, the owner of the chicken farm. The legend of "Kill the Steel Butcher so that he can claim credit from the Führer" has been widely circulated among the SS. However, there are not many people, at least not many in their right minds.
People are willing to earn such a lot of money.
Those who want to earn this thing, do you know where they are now?
In the grave.
Ah, no, it should be said that all kinds of rotten land and death pits that are not even graves have long been turned into spring mud to protect potatoes. If you really can find a place to bury them, maybe you can still get there with a shovel.
I dig out a Tianling lid that smells like nicotine, wash it, clean it up, and sell it to an American soldier to send home as an ashtray in exchange for some money. Those Yankees love this.
After smiling, Malashenko did not intend to chat, but raised his hand to signal and spoke slowly again.
"Then, do you want to lead the way? Or should I order my men to take you down and dig a hole to bury the bodies of your dead comrades first? Don't worry, I won't bury you in it too. I can guarantee that."
Malashenko said this with a smile and "peacefully", but to the ears of ordinary German soldiers, it sounded like "I buried you alive, do you believe it?", and you don't know how at all.
There is any reason to doubt that the unusually tall man in front of him can definitely keep his word.
"Of course, I will lead the way. Please follow me."
"very good."
Malashenko did not lie. At least there was no scene in sight of the ordinary German soldier who just turned his head and took two steps away.
The streets were littered with buildings in various poses, and the bodies of dead German soldiers were everywhere.
Some fell dead on the street with their eyes wide open, and some were lying on their backs with bleeding from all their orifices. Who knows whether they were shocked to death by 130 grenade or their faces were blown away by hand grenades. There was even one with drooping intestines but no upper body.
The lower half of the German soldier's body was hung on a telegraph pole, just like smoked bacon hung on a wire to dry. It swayed twice when the wind blew.
You ask, how did this half of stinky meat end up on the telephone pole?
It is impossible that Malashenko ordered his men to hang it up on purpose. Just for fun, it would be better to have a German soldier climb up the telegraph pole and ask if he knows about the half of the large intestine hanging outside.
What is even more unfortunate for the Germans themselves is that the survivors who were lucky enough to survive now have to collect the corpses of these comrades they may have known, and they have to attack with their own eyes and touch with their own hands the fresh deaths that may still have some warmth left.
"Move quickly, don't dawdle! Get to the car, quickly!"
Several remaining German trucks and half-tracks parked on the street, with many holes in them, but still driving and usable, have been captured and requisitioned by the Red Army.
Don't get me wrong, the leader does not look down upon the "industrial garbage" produced by these Germans.
When it comes to combat vehicles, the tracked armored combat vehicles produced by the Soviet Union are infinitely better than your Germans’ expensive ones.
As for trucks, the leader’s division has a huge amount of U.S. reinforcement trucks that can be used in large quantities. Our Soviet trucks are not very easy to use, so I can just buy them from the Yankees for free. That’s the happiest thing, isn’t it?
These German vehicles were requisitioned for only one purpose: to transport corpses for their final purpose.
The remains of Red Army soldiers will be collected by dedicated personnel from the leading division, transported back to the rear, and buried in a simple collective ceremony.
As for the Nazis, those Germans
Using the leader's own truck to transport this bunch of offenders seems to have been stained by the smelly blood. Malashenko never asked for the proper collection of the German corpses. He could just take them away from the battlefield and dig a hole for them to bury them.
It's not so bad that it doesn't stink on the ground and feeds flies and bugs.
What? Do you really expect that the country and family have been destroyed because of these Nazis, and the Red Army soldiers who have lost their relatives, comrades-in-arms, and even their entire families can put aside their past grudges and give their blood-and-blood enemies a proper burial? Don’t make an international joke, this is not a thing at all
No hope.
Some of the German soldiers who had just become prisoners were now "free coolies," the English word for "freedom."
The first job I received was to dispose of corpses. Regardless of whether they were lying on the ground, stained on the wall, or hanging on the telephone poles, every one of them had to be removed and cleaned up. As a victory
There is no reason for the leader of the victors to spend the night in a disease-infested and stinky street. It is only normal to exercise the victor's power to clean up the streets.
Looking at the expressionless comrades, some of whom looked familiar to him, each one looked depressed and silently carried the cold corpses that also looked familiar to him and threw them into the car. One by one, he looked at those standing aside.
The Red Army soldiers standing there were armed with live ammunition and their faces were filled with fierce looks.
It was only then that the young German soldiers who had not seen much of the world felt the true meaning of the nickname "Iron Butcher" for the first time, at least part of the true meaning.
As the name suggests, this is a man who is as cold as the steel knife in the hand of a butcher on the battlefield. The kind of man who cannot be warmed up even by the temperature of blood. He does not even have a gentle temper, and even with him
All the soldiers under his command are.
The so-called "Iron Butcher" probably shouldn't be the nickname of one person at all, but the nickname of an entire group, this group of guys who go from killing Nazis to dealing with them without blinking an eye.
The only regret is that it is too late to understand this truth now, but it is not absolute.
At least there is still a glimmer of hope. At least before Captain Adam is seriously injured and killed by himself, it is not too late, so he must speed up his pace now.