I can’t remember how many nights I have spent in Leningrad. Due to the heavy casualties of the troops, I led the only eight remaining KV1 heavy tanks to retreat to the edge of Leningrad city for temporary rest and stay away for the time being.
Malashenko, who was facing roaring artillery fire and death on the front line, was plagued by pain and illness and huddled together, shaking non-stop.
"Comrade Commander, you haven't eaten for a day. Your body won't be able to bear it if this continues. It's better to eat something hot to protect your health."
Holding the butt of the cigarette with the last puff left in his hand, Malashenko's lips trembled slightly, and he felt as if his whole body was being placed in a steamer. He almost responded with trembling words.
"I... don't worry about me, Kirill, you guys can divide the food. I feel like I've been put in a bread oven, and I can't eat anything at all. These foods are placed in
It's just a waste here. You should share it while it's hot. This is an order."
Before he finished speaking while holding the last trace of the filterless cigarette butt in his hand, Malashenko, who felt as if he was being placed in a steaming steamer just a moment ago, suddenly trembled all over, caught off guard by the fierce coldness that hit him.
The bone-chilling feeling is like taking off all your clothes and standing in the ice and snow, making you feel like you have fallen into an ice cave.
"Damn it... Damn it! Just now it was like being stuffed into a bread oven, and now it's like being stripped naked and thrown into the winter of Siberia alive. This... what kind of damn disease is this!"
Having traveled from a later era when medical technology was highly developed, Malashenko has never suffered from such illnesses in his short life of more than 20 years. At the moment, Malashenko has no idea what is going on with his condition.
.
However, Malashenko, who is a time traveler from later generations, does not know what kind of disease he has, but it does not mean that Kirill, who is a native of this era, does not understand.
Seeing Malashenko in front of him, who was so weak that he could not even flick out a cigarette butt due to the symptoms of hot and cold, Kirill, who had roughly guessed what was going on with Malashenko, immediately
He spoke again with an anxious look on his face.
"Comrade Malashenko, have you...have you ever been bitten by a mosquito or other small bug in the grass before?"
Mosquito? Bug?
Malashenko, who felt as if he had fallen into an ice hole, curled up in the corner and hugged his limbs tightly. He could barely hear Kirill's words clearly while trembling. After a short period of thinking, he finally got the answer.
Shaking his head for a while.
"A few days ago, we slept in the wild grass every day. Now you ask me if I have been bitten by mosquitoes. What's the point. Every night when I go to bed, I am carried away by swarms of mosquitoes that are like German bombers. This
If you don't get bitten, are you still a human being? Elephants are nothing more than that."
The factual situation is actually exactly as Malashenko said now.
At night, at the junction of late summer and early autumn, the suburbs of Leningrad are simply a paradise for mosquitoes and all kinds of bugs. Not counting those long legs, the belly and body alone are more than half a matchstick.
As long as the sun goes down, giant mosquitoes will emerge from the grass in swarms and dance wildly, sucking human blood to fill their stomachs and feed their offspring.
It’s enough that the people living on this land are a fighting nation. The most terrifying thing is that even the mosquitoes bred in this fertile land are worthy of being fighting mosquitoes. Even the temperature in Leningrad drops to ten degrees at night.
Even the bleak and cold winds cannot stop the blood-sucking desires of these crazy predators. The already rainy late summer and early autumn and the wild environment in the countryside provide them with natural breeding grounds.
Amid the buzzing sound, Malashenko felt like he was almost being carried away by the swarms of mosquitoes. Although he was extremely annoyed, he was indifferent in the face of the terrifying swarm of mosquitoes that could kill at least two people with just one slap.
He had no other choice but to take out his officer's uniform coat, cover all the exposed skin on his body as much as possible, and sleep with it wrapped up.
But even so, once his eyes closed, Malashenko fell asleep completely and was no longer conscious. He would still be bitten by the all-pervasive mosquitoes, and he would barely wake up from his sleep early the next morning.
The first thing I did was to scratch back and forth, wanting to peel off my entire human skin to relieve the itch.
Malashenko, who originally thought that he was unlucky enough to donate blood to mosquitoes every day, would not have expected that these terrible fighting mosquitoes not only suck his own blood, but even treat infectious diseases such as infectious diseases in this era of relatively backward medical conditions.
And extremely scary things will be spread to you along the way.
Thinking of the scene where he had been bitten by a mosquito in the past few days and was constantly tickling while walking, Malashenko, who was almost certain of the source of his illness in a daze, felt his heart suddenly go cold.
"Damn it! It's okay that mosquitoes don't transmit diseases. Once they are infected by people, it will definitely not be a minor disease! This was not explained to the Germans but they were killed by mosquitoes. Why the hell did I
So unlucky?"
Malashenko, who felt a mixture of sadness and anger in his heart, just sighed and didn't notice that Kirill, who was carrying a lunch box for him beside him, had already disappeared without a trace and went somewhere.
A moment later, when Kirill, who looked in a hurry, came back with the military doctor, Malashenko, who was so limp that he could no longer hold the lighter, was shaking with a cigarette in his mouth.
"Comrade Battalion Commander, please look at me! Tell me how long have you been like this!?"
After the loud call rang in his ears, Malashenko realized that someone was coming next to him, and then turned his head tremblingly. The mere look of his bloody eyes covered with red threads was enough to stop the child from crying, and his condition recovered.
Malashenko, whose hair was so severe that he almost lost the energy to speak, then spoke slowly and weakly.
"Two days, maybe three days? At first, I thought it was a fever and cold, and then I felt soreness in my limbs. By this morning, I was almost walking with my hands on the wall. As for the current situation, you have also seen that I have been unable to connect.
I no longer have the strength to hold the lighter."
After laboriously moving his lips, he slowly finished the sentence and then smiled faintly with an embarrassed and pale face. Malashenko, who was exhausted and felt that he was already dying, almost no longer had any hope at the moment.
In an era when antibiotics were not yet widely available, Malashenko, as a future time traveler, could almost guess what kind of horrific consequences would result from contracting a severe infectious disease.