The process of playing with Tiger tanks has ended here. Malashenko, who is addicted to it, does not have much private time to spend. As a brigade commander, Malashenko still has many important things to do.
.
"What are you going to do with these German Tiger tanks? Blow them up, or do you have any other ideas for dealing with them?"
Malashenko, who was the first to jump down from the turret and land on the ground, looked at the tiger in front of him, then looked at Lavrinenko beside him who asked a question, and the sure answer blurted out immediately.
"Why should such a good thing be blown up? It's such a waste."
"Inform Karamov to bring someone over, find a way to drive the two Tigers and get them away, and keep them for emergencies. Even if they are not used, they can be dragged back to the rear and used for research or exhibitions. It is better than
It’s better to blow it up like this for nothing.”
Lavrinenko nodded after hearing Malashenko's order. To be honest, he wanted to keep these two Tigers. Although they were German tanks, they were really attractive, just like sex.
Gentlemen with normal sexual orientation, regardless of national boundaries, always love beauties with protuberance and back protrusion.
"Okay, I'm going to convey the order to Karamov. I just hope he can understand these German tanks. This thing is simply too complicated. It's too complicated to be used on the front line of the war."
Precision art.”
After bidding farewell to Lavrinenko and his own crew, Malashenko stopped a few soldiers and asked, and soon obtained the exact location of the temporary brigade headquarters.
But when Malashenko opened the door of the brigade tent and strode inside, the scene in front of him somewhat surprised Malashenko.
Kirill, holding a piece of letter paper in his hand, sat blankly on the chair, eyes blank, as if he had lost his soul and was left with only an empty shell. There was no movement at all, and even the breathing from his nostrils was at a minimum.
The rise and fall of the chest cannot be seen.
Political Commissar Petrov was sitting on the chair next to Kirill, holding a half-burned cigarette in his hand. His complex expression, which made it difficult to tell what he was thinking in the smoke, was clearly visible. Malashenko could not figure out what was happening in front of him.
What on earth was Political Commissar Petrov thinking with a strange expression?
"What's going on? What happened?"
After glancing at Kirill and Commissar Petrov, Malashenko raised the corners of his mouth and asked a question, but surprisingly, he did not attract Kirill's attention.
Political Commissar Petrov, who was holding a cigarette in his hand, raised his head and glanced at Malashenko. Just a moment of intertwining eyes made Malashenko understand that the matter in front of him was definitely not as simple as it seemed. There must be something wrong.
There was no secret that he didn't know. Malashenko, who spent time with his political commissar comrades, knew the meaning in his eyes even without using words.
"Let's talk outside, Comrade Brigadier."
None of the other staff officers and civilian staff in the brigade headquarters intervened to ask about this seemingly weird situation. They were all busy with their own tasks at hand and working with their heads down.
Malashenko did not forget to look back when he was about to leave the tent. He saw Kirill, who was still sitting on the chair and still had his eyes blank as if he had lost his soul. He formed a gap with the other busy people around him.
An extremely sharp contrast, as if Kirill does not belong here at all but is a simple alien creature.
"What's going on? I've only been away for less than half an hour, why is Kirill like this? What did your uncle do to him?"
Malashenko's question was a little anxious. He was really worried about Kirill's situation, so his tone was naturally a bit unpleasant.
Political Commissar Petrov, who had half a cigarette in his mouth, did not speak directly. He seemed to be thinking about how to answer Malashenko while taking a long puff of cigarette. There were still complex emotions that were difficult to read in his eyes, and then he said
He threw the cigarette butt in his mouth into the snow and stamped it out.
"Kirill's mother passed away."
"..."
"What did you say? When...when did this happen? Why did you die?"
Malashenko was obviously very unprepared for the sudden fact, which was certainly within the expectation of political commissar Petrov. The words explaining the facts quietly followed and came out slowly.
"What happened recently was a malignant tumor. I asked friends in my hometown to send Kirill's mother to a large hospital in a nearby city for treatment. I found the best doctors, but they still couldn't save her life.
.Complications broke out extensively, leading to organ failure, and he died in the hospital. There was no way any medicine could cure him."
Commissar Petrov's expression looked calm, but Malashenko could read the sadness in his eyes.
"Kiril lost his father when he was young, and it was his mother who single-handedly raised him. The importance of his mother in Kirill's memory and life is irreplaceable."
"Before she died, my mother kept squeezing the nurse's hand and calling her son's name. Nurses and doctors surrounded the hospital bed and told her that the child was fine. He was fighting side by side with the tank hero Malashenko in the most elite tank unit in the Soviet Union.
.But...my mother, who was blind, just didn’t believe it no matter what. She thought until her death that her son had died on the battlefield and that everyone around her was lying to her..."
"Kirill has never been back home since he graduated from college last year and went to war. It was me who gave him the order not to grant him leave. Kirill is too dependent on his mother, and her mother also loves her only son.
I'm worried that sending Kirill home may destabilize him, which will not do him any good in future battles."
"At that time, no one knew that Kirill's mother had a terminal malignant tumor. If I could have known in advance, I would have let Kirill go back once, even if he took a plane to see his mother again."
"I received news of a sudden illness right after we withdrew from Stalingrad. At that time, we were busy preparing to build new troops, and the telegram did not say what the illness was at all. I took it upon myself to reply to the telegram and concealed it from Kirill.
I told him no news, and I didn’t tell you either. I originally planned to grant him leave as soon as the war at hand ended, but who could have imagined that the result would be like this."
"..."
After saying the above words, Political Commissar Petrov's eyes were red and tears were welling up in his eyes. To be honest, this was the first time Malashenko had seen Political Commissar Petrov like this. His face was full of unwillingness.
Exuding a deep sense of self-blame.
The surprised Malashenko was speechless for a moment. He wanted to speak to comfort Commissar Petrov, but felt that he did not understand the story of this special family at all. Such a casual opening might have the opposite effect.