Steel Soviet Union

boom--

Lavrinenko's big sandbag fist hit Iushkin's chest and made a muffled sound immediately. Iushkin, who was still speaking excitedly, felt as if something was blocked in his chest and he was gasping for breath. Out of breath, the huge force pushed his body backwards. Iushkin, who was still standing unsteadily, fell backwards to the ground like a rag doll thrown away by a naughty boy.

"You bastard, Iushkin, coward! Did Malashenko rescue you from the wreckage of the tank just so that you could massacre our own comrades!? Comrade Zhuskov is the best doctor in our battalion , when he was fighting malaria and risking his life to save the day, you were still playing with dolls! How crazy are you to think that Comrade Ruskov wants to kill Malashenko?”

Iushkin, who was half-sitting on the wall and holding his chest with his hands, felt that his chest was extremely tight. The grief and anger accumulated in his heart was packed with suffocation, and even if it poured out like a Jedi flood, he howled loudly and was full of sorrow. The words are as desolate as the cold wind blowing outside the house.

"What's the use of talking about this now!? Comrade Commander is suffering from malaria, a black devil that can't escape after being entangled! If Comrade Commander could be saved, I would be willing to beat me to death here, but now Who else can cure him! It’s over, it’s all over, it’s all over!”

Before he finished speaking, Iushkin, who was more than 1.8 meters tall and always had a resolute face, just sat on the ground and cried like a bullied child. Before the advent of specific drugs, malaria was almost as synonymous with death as cancer in later generations.

The pitiful look of Iushkin, who was bursting with snot and tears, made all the Red Army tank soldiers around him feel desolate, even Lavrinenko, who had just punched Iushkin in anger. With a sigh, he let go of his tightly held right hand.

"Comrade Zhuskov, please come here with me."

Lavrinenko, who led the old military doctor out of the crowd when the road was opened in front, immediately stepped to the side of the wall and stood at the foot of the wall. Lavrinenko, who felt as if he had knocked over the seasoning box, turned around. Then he spoke quietly.

"Comrade Zhuskov, I don't know much about medicine, and this is not my specialty. But now I just want to find out one thing from you. Please tell me the truth, no matter what the result is. It’s hard to accept and terrible. I just want to know if Malashenko can be saved?”

After hearing the question from Lavrinenko's mouth, he sighed softly and stretched out his hand to slowly push up his glasses. The slightly cloudy and vicissitudes of his eyes hidden under the thick glass lenses were full of lamentation. look.

"The situation is very bad, Comrade Deputy Battalion Commander, Comrade Battalion Commander's condition has been delayed!"

"Judging from his current symptoms, he was already ill at least at this time last night, and his condition was definitely not mild. But as Comrade Iushkin said just now, Comrade Battalion Commander's physical fitness is good It’s better than almost all of us. It can be said to be a miracle that I can endure it without losing consciousness after the onset of the disease.”

After finishing his sentence, he immediately turned around and glanced at Malashenko, who was leaning against the wall and still shivering and almost semi-conscious. His unoptimistic condition prompted him to fight malaria for countless life and death battles. Zhuskov, who was fighting without gunpowder, spoke again.

"There is no specific drug for treating malaria. This is a specific drug called quinine. But the bad thing is that this kind of plant medicine can only be cultivated and grown in warm and humid places with suitable climate. Our Soviet Union does not have such climate conditions at all. ”

"I once read some medical literature from Western capitalist countries. The book records that more than 97% of the world's quinine is produced from a place in Asia called Indonesia. Those Western colonial countries have been producing They plundered and produced the special medicine quinine from this place to supply themselves, but it was obviously impossible for them to share this special medicine with us, the Soviet Union.”

"The only solution at the moment is to quickly transfer Comrade Malashenko to the Leningrad Hospital in the rear. If possible, report the matter to the superiors as soon as possible! Comrade Battalion Commander's condition has been delayed. , it is almost impossible for ordinary treatment methods to have any effect on him. Now only quinine can save his life! Only by finding Comrade Quining can he have any hope of life. Otherwise, there is almost only death."

Lavrinenko, who graduated from the Ulyanovsk Tank Academy at the same time as Malashenko, had never even heard of Quinin, a name that was profound but seemed very far away from him.

Worried that he would forget this strange name, Lavrinenko quickly took out half a pencil stub from his pocket and wrote down Quinine, the golden name that could bring Malashenko back from death. A piece of paper that I carry with me.

Lavrinenko, who looked anxious and in such a hurry that he was almost desperate, ran quickly towards Malashenko, who was still leaning against the wall even after putting away the letter.

Looking at Malashenko, who had his head lowered and had no strength to speak, Lavrinenko, who was unwilling to give up his last hope, almost touched Malashenko with a tone of suppressed sadness. Open your mouth with firm shoulders.

"Don't worry, old classmate, I swear to Comrade Lenin, I will never let you die here!"

It was late at night in a quiet and bleak night. The area around Smolny Palace, shrouded by night demons, was almost so quiet that even the chirping of night insects could not be heard. Only the elite Red Army soldiers in full gear were still operating in an orderly manner. Patrol in formation.

The office of the Front Commander located at the core of the Smolny Palace was brightly lit. This was already the number of nights that General Zhukov had stayed up all night. He was still busy alone in front of the map, holding a pencil and compass, and drawing the map himself. Think carefully about the next step of the battle in a rigorous way.

Dong dong dong——

A gentle knock on the door suddenly came from the corridor, echoing in the silent office with only the swishing sound of pencils. Zhukov, who was caught off guard and was interrupted from his thoughts, obviously did not expect that someone would bother him so late.

But the more this happened, the more serious and unique the situation was, which prompted Zhukov, who was still slightly frowning, to speak quietly after putting down the drawing tool in his hand.