If Malashenko guessed correctly, a hole of this size should have been made by a Luftwaffe "Little Sweet Potato" aircraft bomb weighing about 100 kilograms.
Although this did not cause any devastating damage to the building itself, the rainwater that was falling continuously was flowing into the field hospital along the hole the size of a water tank.
Although the beds for the wounded that had been moved manually were far away from the hole, they would not be exposed to the rain. However, the wounded with minor injuries who had been laid out on the ground because of the shortage of beds were in bad luck.
Without effective drainage facilities, a large amount of rainwater that falls into the house cannot be drained out at all. After converging on the ground and forming a small river, it flows directly everywhere.
The pads spread under some of the wounded had been soaked by the indiscriminate flow of rain, and in some cases, half of their bodies were almost submerged in the water.
Malashenko, who frowned slightly, then turned around and looked around at his surroundings, but he couldn't find a relatively dry place that could be used to place the wounded. Almost all the positions were arranged. It was full of people, and the shattered ceiling overhead had at least four or five similar places leaking water at the same time.
There is no doubt that the environment in such a field hospital is extremely poor.
"How many wounded do we have in total here now?"
There was clearly a hint of something ominous on Malashenko's face, and after a slight hesitation, Karachev spoke in a confident tone.
"There are about a thousand wounded. Last night, the number was only 800, but after the battle this morning, the number increased to 1,000."
"In fact, there should have been more wounded now, but some people couldn't survive last night and this morning. There were about three hundred bodies sent for processing. Many people... many people we couldn't survive. Save him."
Malashenko was a little surprised when he heard this number. The casualty report that Commissar Petrov showed him before leaving did not include so many people at all.
"Why are there so many wounded? This is inconsistent with the casualty reports I received. Where did the extra ones come from?"
Malashenko, who had a question mark on his face, did not wait too long. Karachev gave the answer almost without hesitation.
"The vast majority are the wounded of our division. Commander Malashenko, the wounded of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment only account for a small part."
"Due to limited medical conditions and manpower, we decided to merge the field hospitals together after discussion, so that we can concentrate our efforts to treat the wounded to the maximum extent. In addition, there is really no extra place to place the wounded, and the entire south side of the station was almost completely destroyed. There is not even an intact building to be found, and only this place can barely keep out the wind and rain.”
Division Commander Cherchenkov, who was eager to save people, carried out a fierce attack almost regardless of the cost of casualties in the attack yesterday afternoon. The three regiments, according to their respective establishments, went into the battle with all their guns and live ammunition and took turns attacking the German positions.
Like a tsunami, the ferocious impacts that hit one after another soon made the German troops guarding the south of the station unable to hold on and were quickly defeated until they were completely wiped out. This raid was commanded by Division Commander Cherchenkov The battle took just over an hour to achieve the tactical objective, tearing through the German defenses south of the train station and breaking into the interior of the station.
But in contrast to this, there is the inevitable huge cost of casualties after assembling a large number of troops at a single breakthrough point to launch a frontal assault. This is also an unavoidable problem that has always been accompanied by the Soviet army throughout the Patriotic War.
.
Zhukov, who adopted an enlarged version of such tactics in his overall strategy, is a good example. Even a super commander like Zhukov, as powerful as the God of War of the Red Army, could not avoid the problem of excessive casualties in later counterattacks.
The greater the victory, the greater the sacrifice.
This is an unavoidable phenomenon that is always directly proportional. The same is true for Division Commander Cherchenkov who wanted to achieve a breakthrough and join up with Malashenko before dark, so he launched an aggressive attack at any cost.
The final result was nearly a thousand casualties after more than an hour of fighting.
After listening to what Kalachev said, Malashenko always felt a bitter taste in his mouth and a bad feeling in his heart. The expression on his face and eyebrows were almost twisted together.
He bleeds for the motherland and has his limbs amputated, but he still has to lie in such an environment and let the wind and rain beat him. Later generations often say that we should not let the soldiers who defend the country bleed and shed tears, but now Malashenko feels that such a thing is happening to him.
It's really happening around me.
"I will find a way to send people over as soon as possible to deal with these problems. At least we can't let the wounded continue to soak in the water, and we can't let our soldiers continue to shed tears after bleeding for the motherland."
Having temporarily determined a solution to the most difficult problem at hand, Malashenko, who was feeling quite heavy, continued to move forward to start the real mission of his trip: condolences to the wounded.
In distant future generations, leaders would always smile and speak softly when visiting the wounded, but Malashenko, who was in a very bad mood now, could hardly squeeze out that smile that was uglier than crying, and he had a lot of troubles.
The feeling of being stuck in your heart will always seriously affect your mood.
After taking a few steps forward, Malashenko came to the hospital bed in Chapter 1, which was poorly made and looked very old.
Lying on top was a seriously injured amputee who had lost all his legs below the knees.
Malashenko, who was dressed in straight uniform, stepped forward and took the initiative to take off his military cap and stretched out his right hand. The wounded man who was lying on the iron bed and staring at the ceiling with dull eyes immediately reacted and was wrapped.
His head like a rice dumpling and his upper body covered with bandages immediately straightened up towards Malashenko.
"Comrade leader! Voloshenko, the commander of car No. 312, reports to you and wishes you good health!"
What awaited Malashenko's right hand hanging in mid-air was not a handshake, but a standard military salute from the seriously injured man who had lost both legs.
Although his hand was hanging in mid-air, he did not feel any embarrassment or discomfort. Malashenko withdrew his right hand and forced out a warm smile. At the same time, he raised his right hand to his face and looked at the man.
The commander who saluted him while sitting on the hospital bed returned the salute.
"Thank you for everything you have done for your motherland! Comrade Voloshenko! How do you feel now? Is there anything uncomfortable?"
Although his face looked normal on the surface, Malashenko's heart was actually full of shame.
Before seeing him in person and hearing his name, Malashenko didn't even know that such a commander existed under his command.
Since retreating all the way from the Kharkov front line, Malashenko has lost count of how many times the First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment under his command has received reinforcements.
Wave after wave of young faces came to sacrifice, and then came again, so fast that Malashenko had to sign on their sacrifice list before he had time to remember the names on the reinforcement list.