When the last ray of sunset on the distant horizon completely sank into the horizon along with the rising night, inside the field division headquarters of the Soviet 20th Tank Division, a drunken Chernyayev was still half-sitting on the ground
Chatting endlessly to his old friends.
"Peter, back then... we all thought that after we eliminated the white bandits and drove away the little bourgeoisie, our lives would get better day by day than before, and we would no longer have to be exploited and exploited by those nobles and rich people. The country
We can also become richer and stronger.”
"But what is the result? What is the result? The result is that a considerable number of us survived the war against the white bandits and foreign invaders, but eventually fell under the gunpoint of our own people! Those white bandits racked their brains and didn't
Marshal Tukhachevsky was able to kill, but in the end he ended up being nothing."
While swaying, he kept muttering those words that were like magic spells. He held on to the corner of the table next to him and stood up straight. As the world was spinning, Chernyaev felt that the whole world was about to collapse. He could no longer tell the difference.
Clear reality and memories.
"I finally understand, Peter. We have assembled five mechanized armies for this battle, five! But in the end, after only a short time of fighting, we didn't look good, and we were so embarrassed."
"No matter how defeated the battle is, some people will always say nonsense like the Germans are too powerful, they have planes and we don't have them, to fool fools. But you and I, we both know that this failure is because of those in the grassroots troops.
The result of little bastards who did nothing."
Spreading his five fingers and palms and waving towards Commissar Petrov while shaking his head, Chernyaev, who was smelling of alcohol, was finally able to pour out all these painful words that had been held in his heart for a long time today.
out.
"This is my uncle who is an official in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and that is my uncle who is a military political commissar in some field. And the son of a bullshit mayor's secretary is even more lawless. Peter, you said... you said if... hiccup... if Lenin
If comrades could see today's scene, would they be so angry that they die again? Socialist Soviet, you are already in chaos..."
Roaring out words that had been held in his heart for a long time and somewhat improvised, Chernyaev, who had always shown his toughness as a senior commander of the Red Army, unexpectedly found himself under the influence of alcohol and inner depression.
I couldn't control my emotions for a moment under the impact, and even burst into tears under the gaze of political commissar Petrov.
"The White Army and the Black Baron are trying to rebuild the throne of the Tsar. But from the Taiga Forest to the British coast, the most powerful is the Red Army!"
Although Chernyaev's expression is full of snot and tears, and he is still chanting the song of faith as if in a loud mourning, it is really funny in the eyes of outsiders. But after the same experience,
In the eyes of political commissar Petrov during those dark years, perhaps this was the true demeanor of Master Chernyaev hidden deep in his heart.
After witnessing the extremely miserable and heartfelt appearance of his old comrade, he couldn't help but sigh. He put the half-bottle of vodka in his hand on the table aside. Lieutenant Colonel Petrov then stepped forward and stretched out his hand to drink the already drunk
Chernyaev, who had difficulty even walking on his own, forcibly helped him up.
"You are not in a good state right now. You are already talking nonsense, comrade division commander! It's better to rest first and then make plans for tomorrow's battle."
With the support of Commissar Petrov, he walked all the way to the camp bed placed in the corner. Chernyaev, who was slurred and somewhat unconscious, was still muttering something that symbolized the past and lofty beliefs.
song.
"I...I'm very sober, and I'm not talking nonsense at all...Let the Red Army soldiers hold the bayonets in their rough hands tightly, we should all...Vietnam War
The more courageous you are, the more courageous you are to carry out...to the final..."
"Okay, stop singing, comrade teacher! You need to rest now. Can't you get up and sing again tomorrow morning?"
It is different from the division headquarters which has a chaotic atmosphere.
When Malashenko returned to his car alone, following the footsteps of the wind, the sharply lowering surface temperature after the sun set and the sudden cold wind on the grassland suddenly blew, including Ni
The three crew members, including Koray, Kirill and Seryosha, were sitting around a small fire together with several other nearby crew members, chatting.
"What makes you happy like this? Is there anyone watching out front? You guys are just having a lively chat here."
After hearing the familiar tone that suddenly came from behind him, Kirill, who turned around first, was the first to see Malashenko's figure striding towards him.
"Sir, you are back. The second company is on guard duty in the first half of the night, and the third company is on duty in the second half of the night. We are discussing here that today's dinner is not to our liking."
After hearing Kirill's answer, Malashenko, who felt a little puzzled, then continued to ask additional questions.
"If we only let the Second Company and the Third Company do sentry duty, what about our First Company? Doesn't the First Company have to be on guard duty?"
Regarding Malashenko's question, Kirill felt a little lonely almost immediately after hearing this. Then he hesitated and gave an answer that was really not good news.
"After the war, our company has only three T34 tanks left, sir, and this includes our company headquarters command vehicle."
"After Comrade Commander learned the news, he looked for you but could not find you. I told him that you followed Commissar Petrov to the military headquarters. Comrade Commander asked me to tell you that we no longer need to stand guard tonight.
Let us rest and prepare for tomorrow's battle."
After hearing the unexpected answer from Kirill, Malashenko fell into silence for a while. Instead of being happy, he felt a little depressed.
After all, Malashenko, who had been suffering in the smoke and flames of war for a whole day, hoped that his subordinates, whose names he could not even remember, could survive intact rather than having a peaceful night without standing guard.
"Hey, that's it, history should be like this. Even if I participate in it, I will only be a passer-by after all. My personal power is not strong enough to change the direction of history."
With a soft sigh in his heart, he found a free spot next to the fire and prepared to sit on the ground. The other Red Army soldiers around him moved their buttocks to the side consciously, thus freeing up a small space for Malashenko, who had the highest military rank.
There is a place to sit.
Looking at the flashing red flames in front of his eyes and feeling the cold grassland wind in his ears, Malashenko, full of worries, was about to face another sleepless night.