Steel Soviet Union

Malashenko, who was holding the phone in hand, did not wait long. Karamov from the other end of the phone quickly gave the answer.

"It's a batch of new light weapons, Comrade Division Commander. Well, I opened one of the boxes and took a look. It's in my hand now. I don't know how to describe this gun. I've never seen similar weapons before."

"It is one size larger than a submachine gun and one size smaller than a light machine gun. It has a very long curved ammunition supply. It seems to have a large ammunition capacity, but the size of the bullets is much larger than that of a submachine gun. It is more like a rifle. and machine gun bullets”

Karamov never lies in front of Malashenko, and it was the same this time.

At this moment, he was holding a telephone in one hand and a strange weapon that he had never seen before in the other hand. The whole gun looked like a mixture of a submachine gun and a light machine gun. Instead of using a drum magazine like Bobosha, a long curved magazine similar to Bobosha 43 is used.

It's just that the size of this bullet is obviously much larger, longer and thicker than ordinary submachine gun bullets, and the bullet is not round but pointed, and it feels quite heavy and heavy in the hand. However, compared to serious rifle bullets and machine gun bullets, it is slightly shorter.

Karamov, who asked himself that he was quite proficient in all kinds of enemy and friendly firearms, really couldn't figure out what category of weapon this big guy in his hand belonged to.

Karamov doesn’t know the truth behind it, but that doesn’t mean that Malashenko, the initiator of all this, doesn’t know it either.

Through Karamov's brief and straightforward description, Malashenko roughly understood what this new light weapon, which he had not seen yet, looked like and had elusive specific features. .

All the descriptions point to a common answer briefly and straightforwardly: Kalashnikov and Kotin probably really got things done! If the newly delivered weapons are not AKs, then Malashenko really can't think of any other new gadgets that look like what Karamov described.

How excited is Malashenko at this moment? It can almost be said that it is irrepressible.

It is no exaggeration to say that Malashenko even feels that his right hand holding the phone is shaking!

I’m going to have an AK! Let these stupid German guys clean their necks and wait for death! No matter what kind of P40 it is, it will crawl! This time, from light weapons to heavy weapons, you can really hit the German stick in 360 degrees without any blind spots.

"Give me a good look at the things! Don't allow anyone to mess around before I get here! If anyone dares to come here, send your people to catch me first. I'll leave right now and I'll be there soon!"

Malashenko put down the phone and was about to leave immediately, somewhat impatiently, but he did not expect that Comrade Political Commissar would take the initiative to step forward at this moment.

"What happened? Why are you so impatient?"

Now that everything has been revealed, there is no need to hide anything anymore. The crisp Malashenko answered directly to the political commissar without thinking.

"The new batch of guns I just told you about have just been delivered to Karamov. This matter is very important. I have to go over and see for myself immediately. Do you want to come with me?"

I don’t know how or for what reason, Malashenko actually subconsciously sent an invitation to the political commissar comrades, as if to see if the political commissar comrades wanted to come over and take a look at the new gadgets that he had worked on under his leadership.

The reason for this is not even clear to Malashenko himself, but some things are just like that and you don’t need to care about the reasons. In short, you just put them into practice without thinking. It’s that simple.

"Already delivered? So soon?"

"Um"

Malashenko spoke softly, nodded in reply, and picked up the military coat placed on the rack at the door of the tent nearby. The political commissar comrade gave the answer immediately after thinking for a short time.

"No problem, I'll go with you. I happen to be very interested in it myself."

"Wait for me here for a moment. I will arrange the work. There are some reports and documents that need to be processed. I will arrange to transfer them to others. They will be ready soon."

Even if he is terminally ill and has little time left, the political commissar is still responsible for a lot of work and a wide variety of tasks.

There are too many trivial and important matters in the division headquarters that the political commissar comrades cannot worry about.

Not only because of his own mission, but also because of his responsibility to Malashenko and the division commander. Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, whose health was getting worse day by day, continued to work like this, fighting on this smokeless but extremely important front, and never said that he would give up voluntarily.

Malashenko, who was leaning against the door of the tent, lit a cigarette for himself. The lighter he had snatched from the corpse of the German colonel earlier was already a bit inoperable. It might have been used for too long and suffered too much damage. He tried it several times. Malashenko finally had a spark when he pressed the ball for the eighth time.

"Damn, this German guy's rag is probably going to retire soon, so he needs to prepare a new one in advance."

While muttering in his mouth, he raised his head and saw Comrade Political Commissar, who was busy directing a group of staff to arrange work.

Seeing such a scene, Malashenko was suddenly struck by emotion and felt a little dazed for no reason. He didn't know how long such a scene would stay with him and appear in his eyes.

Malashenko was really worried and could even be said to be scared. One day, such a scene suddenly would not happen again, and no one would take care of the mess in the division. From then on, the person he respected and cherished would completely disappear. Farewell to this world, never to be seen again.

People often say that only when you lose can you learn to cherish, but what Malashenko wants to say is that he has lost too much, time and time again. I cherish everything in front of me even more, and even regard these things as more precious than my own life. Some subtle changes have long been imposed on myself.

But why do I still have to endure such painful things bit by bit as if I was being tortured, but I have no way to change it and am powerless. Does something called ridicule really exist in this world? Malashenko sometimes feels as if the whole world is quietly mocking him, as if the greater his ability, the more real the mockery becomes.

"Look, what can happen to the hero of the Soviet Union and the young tank general? He still can't protect the most important person around him. As always, he acts like a waste and more like a clown."