Steel Soviet Union

But now that Malashenko has truly experienced the pleasure of fighting during the day and digging holes at night, he finally understands the deep exhaustion that almost completely empties his entire body from the inside out. The true meaning of my father’s words from his past life.

"Damn it, who can withstand this!? If you keep doing this, you will be ruined, and there will be a fucking snake-skin fight tomorrow!"

The angry Malashenko then inserted the shovel in his hand into the small earth bag beside him, leaned on the earth wall behind him and sat down on the ground, panting heavily and rested, opening and closing. The tongue is almost hanging out of the mouth, like a wild dog on the roadside that is about to die from the heat in summer.

Malashenko took out the water bottle hanging behind his butt and took two big gulps into his mouth. Immediately afterwards, he felt addicted to cigarettes. As a good young man in his previous life, Lin Jie was originally a good boy who hardly smoked, which even annoyed Lin Jie. Jay's college classmate and best friend Rosov said that he was worse than the Russian gangsters who wore Adi and hung around with bottles of wine on the streets of Moscow all day long.

But after coming to this cruel Soviet-German battlefield where material life was extremely lacking, Malashenko was surprised to find that he had almost no other way to relieve boredom and reduce stress except smoking. Only the stimulation of the brain nerves brought by nicotine can be used in smoke. The pain and cruelty of war are temporarily relieved in the lingering atmosphere.

Since then, Malashenko's addiction to smoking has been out of control. Whenever he has time, even when he is hunched over in the tank and resting for a while, he will put a cigarette in his mouth and puff away the smoke.

At his worst, he could smoke four packs of cigarettes in one day. Fortunately, Malashenko, who had been promoted to a school level, could get many times more high-end supplies than ordinary Red Army soldiers. Otherwise, he would have been unable to stand up to him. A strong addiction to smoking that has reached its peak.

After groping for a long time on his body, Malashenko finally remembered that he had smoked all the packs of cigarettes he had received from the Front Army Headquarters when he left Leningrad, and felt a chill in his heart. Malashenko immediately showed a sad expression as if his car broke down and broke its axle.

"It's over, it's cold now, there's not one left! What the hell should I do?"

As if he heard the extremely miserable and deep cry in Malashenko's heart, Colonel Donskoy, after working continuously for nearly an hour, temporarily put down the tools in his hands and strode towards Malashenko.

"Let me guess, our tank hero must have run out of cigarettes, am I right? Comrade Malashenko."

Malashenko, who had unkempt hair and a face stained with dirt and sweat, immediately raised his head and looked in the direction of the visitor. He saw Colonel Donskoy, whose rank was also almost completely obscured by dirt and dust, smiling. Then he reached out to himself and handed a cigarette.

"Oh, damn! Comrade Colonel, you came at the perfect time! You can't imagine how uncomfortable I feel right now!"

Malashenko, who praised Colonel Donskoy, immediately raised his right hand and took the cigarette offered to him. He hurriedly stuffed the unfiltered cigarette into his mouth like an addict suffering from addiction. And instantly flicked it on fire.

"call"

After taking a deep breath like nectar after a long drought, the newly reborn Malashenko spoke to Colonel Donskoy, who had already sat down next to him and started to puff up the smoke.

"Let's have a chat, comrade colonel. Just smoking can't relieve the depression in your heart."

The almost vertical anti-tank trench with a depth of three meters is enough to completely block the light of the cigarette butts in the crouching position. The wisps of smoke curling from the top of the head into the night sky are simply impossible to observe in this era without night vision equipment. Naturally, it is also impossible to observe. There is no point in exposing the target to the distant German army.

After taking a deep breath from the cigarette, he lightly dusted off half of the ashes in his hand. Colonel Donskoy, who also missed his family far away in his heart, reached out and opened his jacket, and removed the innermost layer from his chest. An already wrinkled black and white photo was carefully taken out from the lining.

"The one next to me is my love, Sharapova. The one on the left is my son, Sasha, who is seven years old. The one on the right is my lovely little daughter, Anya, who just celebrated her fifth birthday last month. ”

The cold and desolate white moonlight shines on the black-and-white photo, allowing Malashenko to barely see what is shown. Colonel Donskoy, wearing an officer's uniform with a hearty smile on his face, hugs his lover and his children. The scene is so warm and wonderful.

"The children are very cute, comrade Colonel. Well, Sasha looks like you, and Anya looks like her mother. I'm not wrong."

An increasingly relaxed and joyful atmosphere surrounded the two top Red Army commanders on the battlefield. Colonel Donskoy, who had a bold personality, had already regarded Malashenko, who had saved his life, as a life-and-death friend, and the corners of his mouth became increasingly fierce. A rising cheerful smile immediately blurted out along with those unpretentious words.

"Yeah, everyone says that, and I think it's a good thing myself. When Sasha grows up, he will take over the saber I passed on to him and continue to join the Red Army to fight on the battlefield. It's best for Anya to become a lover like her mother. A gentle haven, I believe there will be such a day.”

Colonel Donskoy, whose words conveyed a warm atmosphere, had very good visions and expectations for the future. Even Malashenko, who had not spent much time with him, could not help but be moved after witnessing this scene.

"By the way, Comrade Malashenko, do you have a lover? I have never heard about your family."

Malashenko, who was caught off guard and asked about this, couldn't help but hold the cigarette butt in his hand and was stunned for a moment. It wasn't until the sparks from the cigarette butt burned his fingers that he shuddered and came to his senses.

Home, do I still have a home in this world?

Malashenko couldn't help but fell into a moment of confusion and contemplation when he mentioned this most keyword-focused person in his life, but then a smiling face that seemed familiar but seemed extremely unfamiliar flashed in his mind. The beautiful scenes buried in the deepest part of that inherited memory then flashed before Malashenko's eyes like a slideshow.

"Natalia, I mean her name is Natalia, but we are not married yet. She is waiting for me at her home in Moscow."

Colonel Donskoy reached out to take the photo handed over by Malashenko, and then moved it to a position with brighter moonlight to look at it carefully. The gentle smile fixed in the black and white photo can be remembered even in the dark night. Leave a lasting impression that will never be forgotten.

"What a beautiful girl, Comrade Malashenko, do you plan to go home and get married after the war is over?"