Strictly speaking, the somewhat dry and empty motivational words from Lavrinenko's mouth are almost unable to be of much practical help to Malashenko, who has traveled from later generations.
In that era when everyone wore a mask to cover up their true feelings and show off their true feelings, living like a walking zombie, although a bit exaggerated, was an image description that reflected reality. In this state, he came to this unexpected place.
Malashenko and the world have not been able to completely change himself.
At least before this, Malashenko had always felt that perhaps only the most ideal world could truly achieve complete mutual understanding between people without any barriers or barriers.
But Malashenko, who gradually looked at Lavrinenko's face from the corner of his eye, was quietly changing in his heart. This inexplicable feeling seemed to be drawing closer to each other's hearts.
distance.
Looking at Lavrinenko's sincere face filled with anxious eyes next to him, Malashenko, who still couldn't get rid of the shadow in his heart, finally turned his head.
"What difference does it make whether we are trapped or not? Lavry, maybe all of us will die, today, tomorrow, or even the next minute on this cruel battlefield. Yakov was holding a gun when he died.
Bobosha led the charge with a submachine gun. Do you think he had a premonition of his own death? Or did he regret it at the last moment before his death?"
The collision between materialism and idealism erupted with fierce sparks at this moment.
I didn't expect that Malashenko would say such words that I had never heard before and were extremely negative. I realized that my old classmate might be deeper than I thought. I never felt that Malashenko
Lavrinenko couldn't help but lose his composure on the spot that Schenko was so far away from him. He grabbed the collar of the person next to him with a mentality that was both disappointing and anxious for Malashenko.
"You sat here thinking for a long time and you came up with this? Yakov used his own death to win the final victory for us. Maybe it was not a qualified team battle, but at least he was a staunch Red Army soldier who died for his faith.
, the same as every one of us! And you, the person who survived because of him, are here to question everything he has done, what qualifications do you have!?"
lie--
Lavrinenko, who was so anxious that he became agitated for a moment, grabbed Malashenko's collar and pushed him forward. After being grabbed by the burly Lavrinenko, Malashenko's center of gravity suddenly became unstable.
Ke immediately rolled and fell down.
The armor plate on the front of the T3457 medium tank tilted at a large angle rolled down into the snow like a slide. Malashenko, who showed no displeasure or anger on his face, walked out of the snow without saying a word.
Li sat up with one hand on the ground. Malashenko, who was a little tired of the feeling of walking on the border of death day after day, was at the lowest point of his desire to survive.
"You're right, Lavry, I'm not qualified to question this, but I think I might be qualified to go on the same path as Yakov. I've had enough of this feeling, and if possible, I would even go ahead with all of you
If I die at the front, I no longer want to continue down this path."
The huge ideological gap between the two generations cannot be completely eliminated just because they live on the same timeline. From the initial desire to survive at all costs to the later boredom and numbness, to the current desire to be one step ahead.
Get rid of all this.
The changes that quietly occurred in Malashenko's heart are not simply described as water dripping through stone and sand gathering into a tower. Yakov's sacrifice and Kirill's life or death are uncertain, but it is more like a trigger that triggers the final great change, which accumulates in Malashenko.
The long-suppressed negative emotions in my heart are now pouring down unstoppably like a flood that bursts from a dam.
In distant later generations, this condition was generally referred to as war trauma syndrome.
Standing on the turret, looking down at Malashenko, who had been sitting cross-legged on the snow like a scarecrow for a long time.
Lavrinenko, who just a moment ago felt that he was once again walking side by side with Malashenko, once again felt that the distance between the two was stretched to an unprecedented distance. At this moment, Malashenko was like a stranger, which made Yi Xin
Lavrinenko, who wanted to pull him back, felt unprecedentedly helpless.
The ups and downs of his breathing made Lavrinenko's back look a little manic against the setting sun. He didn't understand why Malashenko could become completely different in just a few minutes. He only knew that he would never and could not.
Lavrinenko, who was so willing to give up, immediately jumped from the turret.
"You can die, but not now! Kirill is still lying in the field hospital with his life or death uncertain. Your crew is still waiting for you to lead them to move forward. I, all of us, our entire first close
The Guards Tank Breakthrough Group is still counting on you to lead us to victory!"
"Responsibility is not something to be shied away from, Malashenko. The dead people entrusted you with things they failed to complete, so that you can continue to go on, not to let you be crushed by these responsibilities! If you die
What should I do in the future? Are you as decadent and helpless as you are? If everyone is like you, then why is there any need to hold on to Moscow? Our forefathers could not even survive the October Revolution and the White Bandits!
Do you want Commissar Petrov to give you a lesson in person!?"
The words that came out of his mouth very quickly were only focused on the anxiety in front of him, but he didn't expect the footsteps gradually approaching behind him.
When Malashenko, who still had a calm face, and Lavrinenko, who had an annoyed look on his face, both focused their gazes in the direction where the footsteps came from, they saw something unexpected.
But then his figure appeared at the focal point of the two people's common sight.
The look he cast towards Malashenko, who looked decadent and soulless, was actually inexplicably sad and immersive. Because of Malashenko’s familiar expression, he was reminded of some long-lost memories. He sighed softly.
Political Commissar Petrov, who was still breathing, blurted out the words that were enough to bring back the soul that had fallen into the abyss.
"Kiril is fine. He is out of danger. I just came back from the field hospital. The first thing he did when he woke up was to ask his comrade, the commander, how he was doing."
...
In the strange and silent atmosphere, only the rustling sound of the wind blew.
Malashenko, whose brain came back online from a brief state of panic, almost thought that he had been hallucinating just now. His staggering movements were even worse than a dog chewing feces. He immediately struggled to lift his legs from the snow and headed towards the nearby place.
Political Commissar Petrov, who was very close by, sprinted away as fast as he could.