Chuikov could hear a hint of helplessness in Malashenko's tone, which made Chuikov, who had a straightforward personality, feel a little embarrassed for no reason. The entire army group was mentally exhausted due to the procrastination of the long-term battle. After all,
Anyone who goes back and forth on the same offensive path seven or eight times will be frightened, even the Red Army soldiers with firm beliefs are no exception.
Fortunately, Malashenko said this more tactfully, and did not directly point out that Comrade Cui himself did not play an exemplary role. He just said that the comrades below may have some cognitive problems, which made Chuikov's
Malashenko's ability to deal with people and speak can't help but raise his rating to a higher level.
Chuikov held a cigarette between his fingers and dusted off the ashes in the ashtray on the table. Chuikov, who nodded slightly, quickly agreed with Malashenko's statement.
"Indeed, you are right, Comrade Malashenko."
"Since I started executing the counterattack order, I have commanded the troops to launch eight group charges towards this damn mountain, and there have been hundreds of other scattered small-scale charges and fire tests!"
"I put all the troops assigned by the front headquarters for reinforcements to this bloody hill, but those Germans were like a swarm of flies that had smelled rotten meat, sizzling, sizzling, and extremely annoying!"
Snapped--
The sudden violent clapping of hands startled Malashenko. He felt that the palms of Chuikov's palms must have hurt under such exertion. Malashenko couldn't help but feel ashamed.
"It seems that Comrade Lao Cui is exactly as described in the rumors, with a fiery temper that explodes at the drop of a hat. No wonder Zhukov promoted him and re-employed him. The personalities of these two people are simply the same as the two clay figures kneaded from the same lump of clay."
Chuikov used his hands violently to swat flies, even the cigarette butts held in his fingers flew away. Chuikov, whose nostrils were like an old cow breathing heavily, took out another cigarette and refilled it for himself. Look,
It can be seen that this short but extremely strong general hated the Germans to his core.
After taking two puffs of the cigarette, he felt that his manic mood finally calmed down a bit. Chuikov, who was still smoking from his nostrils, continued to speak to Malashenko again.
"I am very determined to transfer your First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment over this time, Malashenko."
"If Mamaev Kurgan cannot be captured again, I may become a sinner of the motherland. Malashenko, I am not joking with you. Transfer your 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment from the train station.
This means that if the battle to retake Mamayev Heights fails again, I will use up the last tank unit in my hand, and may even lose the train station that is unable to return reinforcements."
Malashenko did not interrupt, but just sat across from the desk and listened quietly. The expression on Chuikov's face almost printed the words "I haven't finished speaking yet".
"General Zhukov told me on the phone to believe you because you had performed miracles for him. I didn't even expect that he would be so supportive of me deploying you to the battle in the direction of Mamayev Heights. Grassroots command on the front line
No member of the Communist Party of China has attracted more attention from Comrade Zhukov than you. Has he called you or sent you a telegram recently?"
Chuikov's sudden question was obviously beyond Malashenko's expectations. Malashenko, who didn't understand why he asked such a question, shook his head honestly to indicate no.
"Really? It seems that he doesn't want to put pressure on you and affect you. He often asks about your situation when he calls me. I have to report to him the list of losses reported by your group every day.
Once again so that he knows everything, only your regiment can enjoy this kind of treatment of being always personally checked by General Zhukov."
Chuikov said something after that. To be honest, Malashenko, who was already a little distracted, couldn't hear it very clearly. It went in one ear and out the other.
Malashenko really didn't expect that Comrade Zhu Lao had been paying attention to him, but thinking that the train station was one of the first echelon strategic locations related to whether Stalingrad could be defended, he suddenly felt that this didn't seem to matter.
Malashenko was relieved by the strange situation.
"Maybe I'm just paying attention to the train station. I'd better not be too pretentious."
The meeting between Malashenko and Chuikov lasted from half past nine to almost twelve o'clock.
Chuikov, whose troops have been severely reduced, has bet almost all his hopes and chances of victory in the last ditch on Malashenko.
Malashenko, who was under great pressure from responsibilities and trusts, felt a little breathless. Chuikov almost described tomorrow's battle as a turning point in the entire Stalingrad battle. It seemed that as long as he won this battle, the Germans would be completely defeated.
There is no chance of turning around after failure.
"Forget it, let's understand each other. If Chuikov can put so much pressure on me, the burden on Chuikov's shoulders will only be heavier. After nearly a week of fighting, we still can't drive the Germans off the mountain. Who knows how long it will take?
What on earth is going on at Mamayev Heights on the line?"
Malashenko, who was too lazy to think about those troublesome things anymore, closed his tired eyes, pulled the blanket on his body and slept on his side, snoring like thunder in less than ten seconds.
As soon as the time came, it suddenly started ringing, and the lingering sound lingered.
Malashenko, who only slept for more than three hours, got up before four o'clock.
Splashing a handful of cold water on his face and putting a cigarette in his mouth, Malashenko, who was hard-core to drive away his sleepiness, moved like a zombie with such steps that his soul was half out of his body, and arrived at the place where he had not slept all night.
Standing next to Commissar Petrov, who was studying a report at the table.
"You've been busy all night again? You're an old man, so remember to take care of yourself."
Political Commissar Petrov, who was checking the last line of numbers, did not raise his head when he heard the sound, but immediately handed the report in his hand to Malashenko.
"what is this?"
"This is the enemy's defense map on the hill! Last night, I personally went to several nearby friendly troops and asked the soldiers who had rushed to the hill and were driven down. Based on the common points in their memories, I made a spare map
The map marked the firepower points and the basic direction of the defense line."
"The German air force has blocked all the skies around Mamayev Heights. No reconnaissance planes can fly in to find out. Although it is only very limited help, I think this is what you need. At present, we can only
It can be done to this extent.”
With his cigarette butt between his fingers, Malashenko stared sleepily at the map of the Mamayev Hills hand-drawn by Commissar Petrov for a long time. The dense contours of the hills were like the growth rings of a big tree.
It also made Malashenko dizzy.
"But I brought back the combat map from the Army Group Headquarters last night. You... don't seem to be very necessary..."
Malashenko obviously did not realize the key point of the problem, so the patient political commissar Petrov had to emphasize it one more time.
"The map you brought back was for the infantry division. The one I made was specifically for our regiment. Of course, I also referred to the combat map you brought back. I corrected all the possible changes on the hill.
The anti-tank gun emplacements, as well as the locations where German tanks had appeared before, are the focus for our regiment, not those densely packed machine gun emplacements.”
Malashenko, whose sleepiness had not completely subsided, took a closer look with his eyes wide open and found that the neatly marked map in front of him seemed to be exactly what Commissar Petrov said.
"Okay, I admit that the combat map given by the Army Group Headquarters can now be thrown into the trash can."