Steel Soviet Union

“The Russian fighter jets were killing us like crazy! Their tracer bullets dyed the sky red, like the devil I often saw in my dreams when I was a kid.

"The radio was full of distress signals, and everyone was calling for fighter jets to help him drive away the Russians, but they did not receive any response, let alone substantial help. Only the Russians kept using their aircraft cannon shells. In response to us, our bombers and attack aircraft continued to crash, with no chance of parachuting at low altitudes, until they crashed to the ground and exploded."

It is often difficult for a normal person to recall things from two years ago, especially the details, which test a person's memory.

Colonel Henderson of the U.S. Army Air Corps, who personally wrote the inquiry and recorded the file, paused for a moment, slightly frowned his eyebrows, gently turned the pen in his hand in a circle, and then asked again.

"So, Mr. Rudel. In the name of the U.S. Army Air Forces Special Inquiry Record Office, I want to confirm to you again that those Russian fighter jets did not shoot the pilots in the air after you parachuted to escape. That's it." ?"

Colonel Henderson's tone was a little erratic, as if he was deliberately asking a question in order to get a certain answer, but the answer he received still only stated the facts as usual.

"To be precise, we don't even have the chance to parachute to escape. Different from the Western Front battlefield that you Americans are responsible for. There is no strategic bombing on the Eastern Front, only low-altitude death battles. Almost all battles take place in low-altitude airspace. In many cases, there will not even be any Opportunities to parachute to escape, such as the one I'm describing to you.

"Well, I think I roughly understand all the details you're going to state."

The sunlight coming in from the window shone on the desk and the wooden floor. Rudel, who was sitting on the chair like a prisoner, tilted his head and looked out the window. Several American soldiers smoking cigarettes and talking and laughing were leaning against him. They were chatting next to a Willys Jeep. Rudel, who could understand a little English, heard that the chat seemed to be related to the German army, but it was basically ridicule and nothing else.

After finishing recording, Colonel Henderson raised his head and looked out the window in the direction of Rudel's gaze, as if he was curious about what Rudel was looking at.

Colonel Henderson, who saw the smoking soldiers outside the window at a glance, understood something. Then he stood up from behind his desk, reached into his pants pocket and took out a box of cigarettes. After taking out one of the cigarettes, he reached out handed it to Rudel.

"I guess you won't say no to American cigarettes, right?"

Colonel Henderson's German was a bit broken, and it sounded like the drunken and somewhat unclear German spoken by gangsters who often wandered the streets. Fortunately, this did not prevent Rudel from understanding what the other party meant. , at best, it’s just that some people are not so used to it.

"Of course, thank you. I've always found those Turkish tobaccos to be extremely difficult to smoke. It tastes like it's been soaked in horse manure.

Colonel Henderson grinned when he heard this, and his slightly fat head trembled twice with a sinister expression on his face. It was obvious that Rudel's answer made him very satisfied.

"If our cooperation goes well enough, Mr. Rudel, I believe you are qualified to enjoy a happy and free life in our United States of America. We are two groups of soldiers who are very similar to each other, but are bound by different positions and orders. You even agree with my soldiers, I mean about your German tobacco."

As he spoke, Colonel Henderson lit the fire for Rudel and then sat back in his seat. Colonel Henderson put away his smile and returned to a serious face, and then continued to speak.

"Okay, now let's talk about other things. For example, the German Air Force attack report in my hand mentioned that you attacked a strange-looking Russian car during the battle that day when it was intercepted and massacred by the Russians. Heavy tank, you reported after your return that all the shells you fired were deflected by this tank, is this the case? "

Rudel, who was somewhat puzzled by the question, suddenly smiled while puffing away at the cigarette with his fingers, and asked a rhetorical question that was still within Colonel Henderson's expectations.

"Why are you asking this suddenly? I mean, aren't you here to ask me about the details of the air battle? What does this have to do with the Russian tanks?"

After hearing this, Colonel Henderson did not answer directly. Instead, he shrugged with American humor and spread his hands before explaining.

"There is no other special reason. The formal inquiry has ended. You can see that I have even closed the cap of the pen. This means that the part that needs to be recorded has ended."

"From the time I returned to the chair just now, the content of the following conversation has been a private conversation. You can understand it as my personal curiosity. Since we are friends, I believe you will satisfy my curiosity. Right? Mr. Rudel."

Colonel Henderson is a eloquent talent. Although he is 1.93 meters tall and weighs 230 pounds, Colonel Henderson is an out-and-out super big guy.

Don't get me wrong, Colonel Henderson doesn't have time to go to the gym and work out with the same equipment that sweaty studs jerk off to after using the bathroom without washing their hands.

Today's weight and out-of-shape figure are all due to Colonel Henderson's luxurious lifestyle of sitting in an office all day long and loving donuts, chocolate, and three plates of fried chicken in one meal.

The reason why he is in his current position is inseparable from Colonel Henderson's excellent interpersonal relationships and family background. His often fat but eloquent mouth is also a key reason. First, few people dare to refuse to answer in front of this powerful mouth.

"It's been so long that I can't even remember how I reported it to my superiors. But I think since you see such content in the report, it proves that I have indeed done such a thing. If you report it to my superiors, If I were to ask for a definite answer, I think my answer would be "Yes."

Colonel Henderson, who really asked the question out of personal interest and did not lie on this issue, closed the seized file in his hand with a smile. Then he stood up and walked to the window, looking at the pair of colorful birds chatting with each other on the branch, and spoke again with great interest.

"I checked a lot of battle information, combined with your combat records, and basically confirmed a very interesting and somewhat shocking fact."

Rudel was confused and didn't understand what the American colonel was talking about. He even forgot to throw away the cigarette butt that was about to burn.

"The Russian heavy tank you attacked was probably the command vehicle of the infamous Soviet tank hero at the time. Do you know his name?"

Looking at Colonel Henderson's mysterious smile with interest, Rudel almost subconsciously shook his head in confusion. He had no idea what the details of this matter meant.

"His name is Dimitri Drukovich Malashenko. He is now the supreme commander of the Russian heavy tank troops opposite us, the division commander of the 1st Stalin Guards Tank Division of the Soviet Red Army, with the rank of major general."

"But I heard that he will be promoted soon, both in rank and position. I hope our intelligence on the Russians is accurate."

"You know? Mr. Rudel, if you had aimed a little more accurately, just a little bit, the future of your Germany and our United States would have had one less common enemy to deal with. Now, I'm afraid we have to deal with this "Zhukov's Blade" has a headache, and I have to say that your description by the Germans is very appropriate. "