Malashenko, who left after a while, took Kirill with him and walked side by side. Although Kirill was still a little immersed in sadness at this moment, he was obviously more depressed after crying heartbreakingly than before.
It felt much better when we first met.
"There are some things that maybe I shouldn't say right now, Kirill, but you have to cheer up and cheer up."
"You are an indispensable member of the No. 177 crew. I need you, Iushkin needs you, everyone needs you. With you, we can work together as a unit to exert the strongest combat power.
Just do me a favor, cheer up and get back to your normal self as soon as possible, okay?"
Political Commissar Petrov's words reminded Malashenko that Kirill, who had been growing up little by little in Malashenko's eyes, was now a qualified and outstanding soldier.
But before that, Kirill was just a kid who had just graduated from college.
If we put it in a distant future, people who have to stay at home and grow old because they can't find a job for the time being will be forgiven. Maybe they can also get comfort from their mother and guidance from their father, and rebuild their own courage to face the future.
But now Kirill has lost everything. Except for his biological uncle who plays the role of father most of the time, Kirill has nothing in terms of the closest relatives around him.
Political Commissar Petrov, who is always used to leaving his strong side to Kirill, has his own reasons for doing so. Kirill's traumatized heart with nowhere to dock always needs a calm port as a temporary home. After careful consideration,
Malashenko took it for granted that this was the time for him to take on the responsibility, and that he had an unshirkable responsibility and a reason to do it.
Although there is no blood relationship, Kirill has long regarded Malashenko as one of the most important people to him.
During the battle, Malashenko was a comrade, the commander of the train. Without him, Malashenko was like a big brother to him.
The age gap between the elders and younger generations is real and cannot be denied. Compared with his uncle, whom he no longer blames, Kirill is more willing to confide his inner thoughts to his comrade, the train commander, who is similar in age and is like an older brother.
"What I did just now was not good, Comrade Commander. I was too willful, almost like crazy. After I calmed down, I didn't even recognize myself just now. I felt that for a moment I almost
It's about to collapse, I feel like it now just thinking about it."
"Okay, that's it. From now on, don't think about things that make you sad anymore."
Halfway through Kirill's words, Malashenko, who spoke quietly, interrupted Kirill before he could finish his words completely.
People who live in the past can never face reality. Malashenko, who had a similar experience in his previous life, knows what he will do now.
"Speaking of which, are you hungry? I'm very hungry anyway. I just stuffed two pieces of bread smelling like engine oil into the tank last night and haven't eaten anything else since. Come on, I'll take you there.
Eat something good! Don’t worry, I’ll pay for this meal.”
Malashenko, who didn't give Kirill a chance to answer, put his arms around Kirill's shoulders, as carelessly as a shirtless and tattooed gangster hugging his bodyguard. Even his walking posture was comparable to that of the villagers of later generations.
The appearance of the most energetic young man made the others quite surprised when they saw this scene.
"What's going on, Comrade Brigade Commander? Your walking posture is not right, why are you still holding someone in your arms?"
"Would you like to tell Comrade Political Commissar why it looks like you have a leg cramp?"
"It's better to say goodbye. Maybe Comrade Brigade Commander is very happy that he just won the battle?"
Malashenko couldn't hear the whispers fifty or sixty steps away from him. Of course, even if he heard them, he wouldn't pay attention to them. Malashenko was now focused on how to get Kirill to recover as soon as possible.
When it comes to things, I don't have time to worry about anything else.
Material life on the battlefield is very scarce, there are almost no entertainment facilities, let alone women. Of course, even if there are women to play with, Malashenko estimates that Kirill, who is definitely still a little virgin, would not dare to brave the rapids, let alone
Moreover, this idea was not very realistic in the first place.
The only thing that can cheer up Kirill, who still doesn't like to smoke, is delicious food. Although this may be just Malashenko's wishful thinking, it is worth a try after all.
The work of clearing the town of Karachi by the hurriedly arriving friendly infantry divisions is still in progress. By now, the sound of gunshots is almost no longer heard. It is estimated that only the prisoners who are hiding are left.
The 1st Guards Heavy Tank Brigade, which was unable to enter the city for the time being, set up a temporary brigade headquarters in the suburbs outside the city, right where Malashenko had just led the battle in person.
The soldiers who carried out high-intensity assaults for dozens of hours even broke their sleep into fragments to take a quick rest. As for food, let alone food. They ate dry food and drank water all the way without telling a lie.
She was already so hot and uncomfortable from being fucked that she was almost starving to the point of not wanting to eat anything.
After winning the battle, all the current tasks were temporarily over. Once I had a chance to take a good rest, I naturally had to get some delicious food for the soldiers. This was personally done by Petrov, the political commissar in charge of managing life and political and ideological work.
The order given.
At present, this order is being implemented very well. Malashenko can confirm with his nose that the order is being implemented very well from dozens of meters away.
Sniff, sniff, sniff
"It smells so good. What delicious food are you making? I can hardly bear it anymore. Kirill, let's go and eat something first."
Malashenko sniffed hard several times with his nose and almost drooled. He immediately took Kirill without saying a word and walked quickly towards the tent where the scent wafted out.
But the scene he saw as soon as he entered the tent really made Malashenko stunned on the spot, who had never expected it.
"Iushkin, when did you sneak over here? And you! Lavry, why are you here too!"
Iushkin's mouth was so full that even the lard that had just been stewed in the pot was flowing down the corner of his mouth. Iushkin turned around, and his face was swollen like a pig's head after eating, which almost made Malashenko.
Didn't recognize it.
"Comrade commander, please come over and eat some, it's so delicious."
Looking at Iushkin, whose mouth was stuffed with all kinds of delicacies, he could hardly hear what he meant when he spoke like a pig. Malashenko, who was so upset in his stomach, couldn't bear it any longer.
**, a strong step swooped forward and immediately grabbed the food on the plate in front of Iushkin.
"You loser! Leave some for me. Don't pour all the stewed pork into it. Damn it, I asked you to leave some for me!"
"There's still something in the pot over there, don't take it from me."
"I'm going to eat yours! Give it to me quickly! Oh, Lavry, you're a starving ghost, so much beef can kill you, give me a piece quickly! Give me the biggest one, hurry up!"
"If you don't give it, you can eat the smaller one. Don't grab this piece. This piece is mine!"
"Damn it, I am the brigade commander and you are the deputy brigade commander. You go and eat the smaller one. The biggest one is mine!"
The various tableware on the table were snatched away by the three people as if they were reincarnations of starving ghosts. There was a lot of clanking, soup was spilled, and meat foam was splashing. Only Seryozha, who was silently making a fortune, directly took the cook and used it for cooking.
The scenes of people squatting beside the pot and eating the ready-made food on the spot seemed to be a mess, with the sounds of fighting and yelling, but Kirill, who was standing there blankly, suddenly felt something new in his heart.
feelings.
This is the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Brigade, the No. 177 crew, and my fellow train brethren who never see anyone else and feel like brothers, as well as the deputy brigade commander who always likes to joke with me and is optimistic and informal.
It turns out that this is my forever home.
Kirill's nose was filled with the aroma of food. Finally, the tears that flowed down the river and spread to the corners of his mouth curved upward, and a heartfelt words blurted out as he took a step forward.
"Uncle Ivan, give me a spoon, I want to eat the most delicious pot!"