Unable to escape fate, Malashenko tried his best to change the situation of the war, but in the end he ended up being dragged into the Battle of Stalingrad.
Compared to the meat grinder of Verdun in World War I, the Battle of Stalingrad in World War II was far more bloody and larger than the former.
The cruel and dehumanizing street fighting is far beyond the comparison of ordinary field battlefields. If Malashenko was thinking about how to survive in the previous battle, then the upcoming Battle of Stalingrad will have a profound impact on Malashenko.
In other words, it may be more appropriate to consider and prepare how to preserve the whole body.
The right hand that gently held the cigarette holder could not help but tremble as if suffering from epilepsy. Commissar Petrov, who noticed something was wrong with Malashenko, immediately cast a questioning look.
"What's wrong with you? Malashenko."
No matter how scared he was, he did not dare to speak out. Malashenko, who forcibly suppressed the fear in his heart, could only use those useless words to try to excuse him.
"I'm okay. I probably caught a cold while sleeping just now. It's okay."
I always felt that Malashenko's expression and tone of voice were a bit strange, but after studying it carefully for a while, Commissar Petrov couldn't find any clues that could be said on the spot.
After shaking his head for a moment, Commissar Petrov pointed to the support material column in the telex newspaper and continued to speak seriously.
"What will be delivered tomorrow will be some food and medicine. The fuel will arrive later. The amount mentioned in the telegram can probably enable our regiment to maintain a strategic maneuver of 500 kilometers. Strictly speaking, it is still a bit small. What do you have?
Do you want to point out your opinion? Malashenko."
There were only three people in the empty room: Political Commissar Petrov, Lavrinenko and Malashenko. In the absence of outsiders, Commissar Petrov preferred to call Malashenko by his name rather than Comrade Leader.
Malashenko, whose mind had already been focused on the meat-grinder-like street battles in Stalingrad, hardly thought about the telegram. When faced with Commissar Petrov's sudden opening, he was stunned as if he had received an electric shock.
"Supplies? Fuel?"
"..."
"Just watch and distribute these things. If there is less fuel, use less. Our regiment will not conduct strategic maneuvers over long distances. 500 kilometers of fuel will be enough for a long time."
After listening to Malashenko's calm words, Commissar Petrov and Lavrinenko, who were a little confused, couldn't help but look at each other.
How does Malashenko know that he will not make too long a strategic maneuver next?
They wanted to seek answers to the questions, but Commissar Petrov and Lavrinenko simply swallowed their words after seeing that Malashenko's interest was not very high, and he was even a little depressed.
I gave up this plan in my stomach.
The two people, who had no idea of Malashenko's true identity, naturally attributed all the problems and results to the fact that Malashenko was very tired, and they figured it was time to have a good night's rest.
Many people slept soundly that night, but only Malashenko lay on the bed with eyes as wide as cowbells, turning over and over and unable to fall asleep.
Although the bloody and brutal Battle of Stalingrad was unparalleled in the world, Malashenko, who had an extremely strong desire to survive, still had to consider and face the realistic problem of how to survive.
The plain armored assault warfare on the grasslands will definitely not work in the intertwined street battles of Stalingrad. Malashenko must consider innovative tactics to deal with the upcoming battle.
"Swarm operations are definitely not feasible in the city. If possible, it is best to conduct assault operations in groups. Break them into parts to assist the infantry in combat? But in this case, you will lose control of the entire unit. Without command, you will not know the group of vehicles and crews below.
How can it be beaten?"
"It's unrealistic if we don't group them into groups. The tough bastards in the city are just looking for death if they get together, not to mention they won't be able to use their skills."
"Damn it, the Bu-tank synergy these days is still too lagging behind. I don't have anything I can count on. What should I do?"
With his head full of thoughts about the next battle mode, and his thoughts already flying to the sky, Malashenko felt extremely confused and unable to sleep the more he lay down.
I rolled over from the bed and sat up and glanced at the time on my watch, which was clearly illuminated by the moonlight outside the window. It was just after 2:30 in the middle of the night. Even if I could fall asleep, I probably wouldn't be able to stare for a while. Instead of continuing to roll around like this, I might as well get up.
Malashenko, who went out to relax, immediately grabbed the coat hanging by the bedside, put it on his body, put on his shoes and walked out of the house.
I don’t know if it was because of the heavy rain just now, but the air in the middle of the night was not only very fresh, but also made people feel comfortable breathing.
A gust of breeze even made Malashenko shiver a little when he just got up from bed. At least the temperature difference between day and night tonight is really not that big.
"Fighting all day long! Damn it! If you can live a peaceful life, who the hell wants to sell this life? Why can't you time travel and become an ordinary person, hug your wife and have sex peacefully?"
As Malashenko's thoughts became more and more serious, he began to blame all the problems on his bad luck in time travel.
Compared with the novelty and admiration of becoming a Soviet officer when he first came to this special era, Malashenko, who was tired of the war, began to yearn more and more for the ordinary life experience of his previous life.
Malashenko was really fed up with this kind of bad war, where people were killed every day as if it were commonplace.
Back when he first traveled through time, Malashenko would still have felt sick and a little touched when he saw dead bodies and blood flowing on the floor, but if it were viewed now, Malashenko could sit with a bowl of rice in his hands while his intestines were bleeding.
Next to the half-cut corpse on the ground, the pots and bowls were empty every minute.
War has wiped out human nature and turned higher beings with human hearts into insensitive war machines. Today, Malashenko has been able to fully experience the state of mind of those who went crazy after the war.
Even if a person with a weak will is lucky enough to survive the war, his soul that has fallen into the abyss will always remain on that battlefield full of gunfire and suffer for the rest of his life.
When the sparks from the third cigarette were about to burn his fingers, a figure came quietly from behind and handed the fourth cigarette to Malashenko, who was half-crouching.
"Lavery? Why did you run out? Why didn't you sleep so late?"
Listening to Malashenko's nonsensical question, Lavrinenko smiled faintly, reached out for a lighter, and pressed it gently, then spoke quietly.