And now, the bearer of the name that Paulus hated so much that he gritted his teeth was standing in front of him alive.
His face was covered with mud and oil, and his winter cotton-padded jacket was wrinkled, and even the cotton threads had spewed out. It was extremely funny!
The opponent's ball-like clothes and the ugly tank hat on his head had nothing to do with beauty. To Paulus, it was like spitting in his face.
Just such an extremely slovenly guy, who is considered to be the lowest and despicable existence among farmers, even worse than the smelly, sweaty workers in the factory, actually defeated the most elite troops of the Sixth Army.
That "Iron Butcher"? How could the Sixth Army lose to such a guy over and over again!?
Malashenko, who saw Paulus's extremely wonderful and constantly changing distorted facial expressions, was filled with a sense of joy in his heart. He really liked Paulus's expressions, which were more exciting than the face-changing expressions in Sichuan opera, and even more
To describe it more accurately, I never tire of it!
"I'm happy to tell you something. What you do next is not up to me, Paulus."
"If I were you, I would think in advance about how to talk to the generals and marshals of the great Soviet Red Army, and how to better confess everything. Smart people will do this, and you are no exception, right?"
Before Paulus could answer, Malashenko's throat seemed to be a little uncomfortable, and he spat a mouthful of phlegm to the ground under his forehead.
Paulus had to admit that he was startled and subconsciously looked at his feet. Fortunately, the spittle from the other party did not hit the upper of his shoes, but only fell into the area less than three centimeters away from the heel.
A small hole appeared in the snow.
When Paulus raised his head again, the man in front of him had already turned away, leaving behind him a silhouette of his back waving orders to the surroundings.
"Captain Varosha!"
"arrive!"
"These German prisoners are all yours! Look after them! If you let one go, you will be a sinner of the motherland. If you let a general go, he will be shot! Do you understand?"
"Of course, Comrade Malashenko! Don't worry, leave it to me!"
After yelling at Malashenko on his left, he turned his head and then spoke to Lavrinenko who was walking with him.
"Radio, radio, or sending someone to drive to convey it, any method will do! In short, the news of victory must be conveyed as soon as possible. First, report it to the brigade headquarters and inform the political commissar comrades. He will report it directly to the front army headquarters, and later
We don’t need to worry about these things! Next is the moment of honor, get ready to be a hero, my dear old classmate!”
Lavrinenko, who listened carefully to Malashenko's orders, looked back at the large number of German prisoners behind him and saw countless Red Army soldiers beating and kicking them like dogs, driving them away with their heads down as if they were dead mothers.
of fascists.
The joy of victory overflowed on everyone's face. One person led ten people, ten people led a hundred people, and a hundred people led a thousand people. The cheers and joy soon swept the entire sky like wildfire.
"Victory! Ula!!!"
"We are victorious! Long live Stalingrad! Long live the great leader Comrade Stalin!!!"
"Victory! Victory! We won!!! Ula!!!"
Looking at this real and unbelievable scene in front of him, Lavrinenko, who still felt like he was dreaming, couldn't help but turn around, and his tone of voice when he spoke quietly was still full of uncertainty.
"We... we really just... won like this? The German Sixth Army, the most elite army, was just finished like this???"
The brutal battle that burned flesh and blood exhausted the souls of all those who participated in the battle. It lasted from summer to autumn, from autumn to the first snow, from the first snow to the severe winter, and from mid-1942 to early 1943!
Malashenko, who couldn't help but raise his head and look up at the sky, took a deep breath.
The brutal battle that lasted for more than half a year almost brought Malashenko to his knees. Being able to get to this point is enough to bring tears to his eyes!
Countless soldiers soaked the earth of the motherland under their feet with their blood and lives. On top of the layers of corpses, the red flag that stood tenaciously until the end was still the same!
Everything was not in vain. What was defended from the iron heel of the invaders was not only the sacred territory, but also the hope given to people in the face of adversity and despair.
The news of victory will soon spread to every inch of the country along with the names of the heroes. The evil Fascist invaders fell into the cold winter as always, unable to make even an inch of progress on this red land!
How much Malashenko hopes that Commander Yakov, Lieutenant Vasily, the bearded Maxim, his own electromechanical officer Seryosha, and all the people who have fought side by side with him can see this cheering,
An exciting moment that evokes victory.
These brave and lovely people can never open their eyes again. Malashenko now uses his inherited will to witness the arrival of this great moment for them with his own eyes.
Malashenko, who could not help but shed tears at the corners of his wet red eyes, did not regret anything he had just done, even if he tore off the shitty skin of those damn abominable fascists and threw them to the ground and stepped on them ten thousand times.
No return to the lives that have been lost.
The two brothers Malashenko and Lavrinenko, who were fighting side by side, leaned side by side unconsciously, and their tears became more and more numerous. They couldn't stop the tears from flowing down, and finally they simply sat down on the ground, crying.
Tears of laughter resounded in the battlefield sky where the dark clouds gradually dissipated, and the golden sun finally cleared up and filled the war-torn land.
Malashenko, who no longer cared about anything else, just lay sprawled on the ground, smiling with tears on his face and widening his eyes, looking up at the sky above his head that had not been so blue for a long time.
Lavrinenko, who was also lying on the spot next to the pile of corpses, seemed to have forgotten Malashenko's order, but this no longer mattered.
Accompanied by a burst of speeding brakes, Malashenko, who clearly felt the vibrations coming from the ground beneath him, looked up slightly and saw the figure that kicked open the car door and strode over from a short distance away.
Familiar and friendly.
"You two...oh, bastards! I thought you two were knocked down by the enemy, lying in the pile of corpses staring at the sky and giggling. One is the brigade commander and the other is the deputy brigade commander. What do you want me to say?
Are you two good!?"
The giggling Malashenko was still lying on the ground, lying on his back and refusing to get up, but he waved his right hand and pointed in the direction of the soldiers behind him who were still cheering. The whole department store was filled with densely packed and staggered parking spaces.
Dozens of IS1 and KV1 heavy tanks in the shopping mall square are also the best witnesses to this magnificent scene.
"Calm down, comrade political commissar, and listen with your heart. This is the sound of victory that we paid a painful price for."
"Once, just this once, let me listen here for a while. I can't leave this place now."
What was the scene like before?
Political Commissar Petrov, who had just arrived, did not know.
But at least now, at this moment, Commissar Petrov was convinced that the smile on Malashenko's face was a sincere smile that he had not seen for a long time.