"If possible, Comrade Zhukov, I would like to ask you to grant me a special person."
"one person?"
He couldn't help but be a little stunned by the words Rokossovsky said. He had no idea which song Rokossovsky was referring to, so he asked Zhukov in reply.
"Well, it's not too much to ask for someone. After all, your new group army is in full swing and needs an injection of fresh blood. Tell me, Comrade Rokossovsky, what are you interested in in my General Staff Department?
A staff officer?"
Faced with Zhukov's rhetorical questions and answers, Rokossovsky, who was not interested in drinking, slowly shook his head with a smile.
"You are mistaken, old friend. What I want from you is not a staff officer or a division commander, but a tank company captain from my former Ninth Mechanized Army. His name is Dimitri.
.Drukovich Malashenko.”
When Rokossovsky spoke slowly later, he told Zhukov everything that Malashenko and he had talked about in the military headquarters. From then on, he began to have outstanding achievements and no lack of frontline command.
Malashenko admired Malashenko's art and long-term vision, and Rokossovsky, who wanted to promote Malashenko and reuse him, then continued to speak.
"It was this captain of a tank company who suggested to me the important role of radio stations for inter-vehicle communication. He led four tanks and half a battalion of infantry in the just-concluded battle from Lutsk to Brod.
Almost killed an entire mixed mechanized battle group of the Germans."
"The cumulative number of enemy tanks destroyed by the No. 177 T34 tank crew under his personal command has climbed to a full 36 after this battle. This does not include those German troops who may have been destroyed and did not come forward to confirm and inspect.
tank."
"Tell it for yourself, old friend, if such an outstanding frontline tank commander is buried at the bottom of our army without being discovered and reused, wouldn't this be a great loss for our Red Army?"
When Zhukov, who looked slightly surprised, heard all the stories about Malashenko from Rokossovsky in front of him, the then Chief of General Staff of the Red Army, who would later be known as the "Red Army God of War", also
He couldn't help but fell into deep thought. The correct conclusions and summaries about the tank force brought by Malashenko from later generations were also things that Zhukov had never heard before.
"I really didn't expect that there are such outstanding tank soldiers hidden among the grassroots tank troops of our Red Army! I think your point of view is correct, old friend. As senior commanders and fighters of the Red Army, we do have an obligation and we should not let such people
Talents are not reused."
After finishing his sentence, Zhukov thought for a moment, and after a while, Zhukov spoke again with a decision already made.
"Let's do this, Comrade Rokossovsky. Since you have asked so, then I will send a telegram to the headquarters of the Ninth Mechanized Army later, requesting that the Captain Malashenko you are talking about be transferred to
Your newly formed 16th Group Army of the Western Front will continue to be under your command."
"Well... there is also the battle merit issue you mentioned before. Being able to capture 36 confirmed German tanks in such a short period of time is really impressive based on the summary of battle results I have received here.
This is the first time.”
"Isn't it a bit too hasty to award an Order of Lenin to this young captain now? What do you think? Comrade Rokossovsky, do you think it's OK to award an Order of the Red Banner first?"
From the tone of Zhukov's mouth, I heard that he wanted to suppress his merits for the time being and wait until Malashenko achieved more and greater results before awarding him with higher honors. He promised Malashenko
Rokossovsky, who wanted to get him a commensurate medal, quickly agreed with Zhukov's opinion.
"Since it was your suggestion as the Chief of General Staff, there is no problem on my side. Although the results achieved by Captain Malashenko did not take long, they are indeed worthy of the weight of a Red Banner Medal. I also hope that he can continue to serve in the military.
Survive the cruel battle and create more outstanding achievements, so that you can fulfill the promise you just said."
After hearing Rokossovsky's half-joking words, he couldn't help laughing. After shaking his head slightly, Zhukov quickly put forward new opinions on the issue of Malashenko's military rank.
"Only you can express your dissatisfaction so implicitly in front of me, old friend. Let's put aside the matter of medals for now. What do you think of promoting this little guy Malashenko to the rank of major?"
Malashenko, who was still resting with the 20th Tank Division in the old Soviet-Polish border fortress area, did not know that two big shots in Moscow had already decided his fate for a period of time while talking and laughing.
After grabbing the semi-liquid liquid food in the lunch box in his hand that he complained about as "slurry mixed with beans", Malashenko, who had finished his meal in a hurry, was about to wash the lunch box and put it away again when he hurried over with a telegraph newspaper in his hand.
At this moment, Political Commissar Petrov suddenly stepped into the bunker room where Malashenko was located.
"Captain Malashenko, I just received a telegram from the army headquarters! You will be transferred to the newly formed 16th Army of the Western Front to participate in the battle in the direction of Smolensk. In addition, there is another person sent along with you.
A telegram of commendation and a promotion order."
Having said this, Commissar Petrov, who had established an extraordinary personal friendship with Malashenko, immediately spoke with a smile as if he felt the same.
"Congratulations, Comrade Malashenko! You will be awarded the Order of the Red Banner for your outstanding achievements. At the same time, you will officially become an honorable tank major from now on."
"What? Smolensk? Order of the Red Banner? Tank Major? Damn it!?"
Bang, bang, bang--
With a look of astonishment on his face, Malashenko accidentally dropped the metal lunch box and spoon on the concrete bunker floor with a crisp sound. He was stunned and never expected that tragedy and comedy would follow at the same time.
Malashenko really didn't know whether he should cry or laugh at the moment.
"Damn it! I finally got the chance to take a two-day break here and work hard to save my life, and now I want to transfer people to Smolensk to fight against the German Army Group Center!? Damn it, uncle, what the hell is this?
What? Give me a slap in the face and give me two big dates? Give me an Order of the Red Banner and be promoted to major and let me fight against the Germans’ Army Group Center. Who is this that set me back!?”
Malashenko, who was filled with joy and sorrow and was complaining crazily, had no idea that what was waiting for him in the distant direction of Smolensk would be a bloody fight as cruel as a meat grinder.