Steel Soviet Union

What are some good countermeasures? This question stumped Malashenko.

Malashenko knew very well how hungry the entire city of Stalingrad, which had been surrounded and blockaded by the German army for a long time, was. To put it bluntly, the current level of hunger in Stalingrad is not much better than what we saw in Leningrad last year.

Malashenko, who suffers from some mild stomach problems, has experienced firsthand the negative effects of long-term irregular eating and hungry and full meals on the body. He has forgotten how many days he has not seen him. Malashenko, who has become a star, even feels that he may be just one step away from malnutrition.

But he is still a soldier after all. With such a young body and bones, at least there won't be any big problems in the short term.

But if Yegor's mother in front of her continues to be so malnourished, going blind may be the best outcome. She is lucky not to starve to death.

There are many pains that a ten-year-old child cannot bear, and losing his mother is one of the most soul-crushing ones.

Even though there are countless people in need of help throughout Stalingrad, Malashenko should not be concerned about these messy things. But Malashenko, who has always had his own sense of perseverance in his heart, could not sit idly by and ignore the fact that a ten-year-old child was about to lose his mother.

A fool has the perseverance of a fool, and a fool has the persistence of a fool. Malashenko, who didn't care whether he would be regarded as a fool or a fool, immediately gave Karachev an order.

"I'm going back to the dock. You and Anya are here to see if anyone else needs help. Try to prioritize the most critical cases for treatment. We don't have much time left."

Through recent contacts, he had a relatively thorough understanding of Malashenko's character. Karachev, who could probably guess what Malashenko was going to do when he returned, quietly nodded.

"I understand. Anya and I are waiting for you here, comrade leader."

Malashenko, who turned and walked towards the entrance of the air-raid shelter, saw that many refugees were already surrounding him.

The refugees, who live huddled in small air-raid shelters with barely a square meter of space per person, are men and women, old and young.

But almost everyone looked at Malashenko with a pleading, numb, and hope-seeking look.

These women, children and children, who are in ragged clothes, have sallow faces, and have trouble standing still, hope to gain even a little bit from this man who is known as the hero of the Soviet Union, whether by word of mouth or from the loudspeaker. The hope that keeps life and life going.

But perhaps Malashenko's brand-new, rarely worn uniform of a tank lieutenant colonel officer was too eye-catching, and it was in sharp contrast with the dirty stains on the rags around him, which made these people feel both inside and outside. The refugees, who had a strong desire to survive but were also full of awe, did not dare to take the initiative to speak.

Malashenko, who stood motionless on the spot, was almost completely separated from the refugees in front of him. It was as if an invisible wall of air was blocking each other, making it impossible to speak. It's like he didn't dare to take the initiative to take a step forward.

The first person to break the strange atmosphere was neither Malashenko nor the adults among the refugees, but a man whose clothes were in tatters like a few rags wrapped around his body. He looked older and taller than Ye Gore also wanted to come to younger girls, at best five or six years old or even younger.

Malashenko, who had already stirred up huge waves in his heart, remained motionless on the spot, watching quietly as the little girl, who seemed to be a little wandering when walking, slowly walked towards him with her little feet. The little girl's red pair of The little cloth shoes were so tattered that one could clearly see the gray little toes.

The little girl with two small hands clasped tightly came to Malashenko and slowly stretched out her arms. Malashenko, who could feel his eyes spinning in his pupils, was waiting quietly. Finally, the moment came when the little girl gently opened her two clenched fists.

The little girl was holding two candies in her hands, one on the left and the other on the right. They were actually two candies that even the wrapping paper had worn out!

"Mom and Uncle Boris said that you are a hero who defends the motherland. Commander Malashenko, this is the candy I left for you. Thank you for protecting us."

All the words that can be thought of can no longer describe Malashenko's state of mind at this moment. Even the Chinese culture, which is far more extensive and profound than Russian writing, Russian culture and art, can't find a single word in the vast thesaurus that can be extremely precise. To describe Malashenko’s true state of mind.

Malashenko, who bit his lip tightly and felt something spinning in his eyes, immediately squatted down on his tower-like body that was over 1.9 meters tall, reached out and gently took one of the pieces from the little girl's right hand. Tang, and then gently closed the little girl's stretched left hand with two big hands, forcing down the choking in her throat and slowly opening her mouth.

"Uncle will only take this one, you must keep the other candy for yourself!"

"When there are no explosions and gunshots in this great city, when all the Nazi invaders are crushed by the heroic Red Army soldiers, when you and your family can safely walk out of this air raid shelter and breathe the fresh air outside, Watching the Red Army uncles walking by with their heads held high on the street."

"Eat this candy, and Uncle Malashenko will share this joy with you from afar. This is our agreement, right?"

The adult world and many words are beyond the understanding of a young child. The only thing the little girl can do is to nod vigorously as Malashenko's big hand gently rubs her little head.

Feeling that his forced smile might be uglier than crying, Malashenko instantly put away his mood, stood up and walked through the crowd of refugees in front of him, not caring that the stained rags would be stained. Wearing his brand-new uniform, he strode towards the entrance of the air-raid shelter which was already very close to him.

Perhaps because it was late at night and the sky was too dark, Lavrinenko, who saw Malashenko again, did not notice the strange look on his old classmate's face, but when he was about to go up to ask for details, he was stopped by Malashenko again. Shenke's sudden words interrupted his speech on the spot.

"How much food is left in our group? Count all that can be eaten."

Lavrinenko was a little puzzled, and he still didn't even see the strangeness on Malashenko's face.

"It's quite a lot, enough to feed the rest of us for more than a month. Karamov has been taking care of the logistics lately. Why do you suddenly ask this? What happened?"