Steel Soviet Union

Since it's a tea party, we need something to drink.

The Red Army tank did not carry a Chinese tea machine, but there were two bottles of vodka stuffed in the storage box, and half a bottle of French brandy that had been unfinished since the last time it was opened and the corks had been stuffed back into the bottles. Of course it was also seized from the Germans.

"Ah, what's the idea of ​​drinking during the war? I think it's quite appropriate now."

Iushkin, who couldn't hold the door with his mouth, saw the half-section of the wine bottle sticking out of the storage box, and was the first to suggest it. Malashenko, who had his hands on both sides of his captain's seat, saw this and smiled at each other. Then without thinking, he took out the bottle of French brandy that he had not finished drinking last time, and raised his hand to pull out the cork.

"If you have an internal gathering within the train crew, please keep your mouth shut and don't let the political commissar know about it! Otherwise, the entire train crew, including me, will have to write a review, including me. Do you understand?"

The wartime alcohol ban, drafted jointly by Malashenko and Commissar Petrov, is still in effect and is still in effect.

If Malashenko takes the lead, the political commissar comrades will know about inviting his brothers to drink on the battlefield. Comrade Lao Ma's one-stop process of writing a self-reflection, holding a teacher-wide meeting, and reading it out in public is definitely not going to work. He might even have to carry out the punishment of cleaning several toilets and picking up two buckets of feces. This is a political commissar's principled problem. Comrades will never give in.

Therefore, it’s no wonder that Malashenko has to be so careful when he wants to secretly take a bite.

"Ha, I understand everything. I won't let Comrade Political Commissar know about it. Don't worry."

Obviously, Iushkin, who was already impatient for the wine bottle, did not take what he said to heart. He now wanted to put the thing in Malashenko's hand into his mouth first.

"Hiss-hoo-not bad, it's surrender-flavored, and it's third-hand."

The French may have performed poorly on the battlefield of World War II. The rifles are all brand new from the factory, with 100% original rifling and no signs of wear at all. However, the taste of French cognac is really worthy of praise.

It's like being used to a Russian aunt whose arms are thicker than a young man's thigh, and then suddenly meeting a charming French girl.

Drinking is like life, you have to change your taste, right? What's the point of grabbing a certain kind of wine and drinking it to death?

After taking two sips of brandy, Malashenko felt that his overall mental state had improved a lot. After shaking his head vigorously, he handed the bottle to Iushkin, who was already looking at it.

"Hurry up and give it to me. I'm so hungry."

Mumble——

Mumble——

"Ahem, how much more do you want to drink? Save some! There are still people who haven't drunk yet!"

Malashenko, who had not had a drink for a long time, was just taking a small sip, but as soon as the bottle came to Iushkin's mouth, it turned into a big gulp of drinking.

Seeing that the remaining amount in the bottle was bottoming out, Malashenko quickly intervened to stop him. He interrupted Iushkin who was blowing on the bottle with his hand, held the bottle in his hand and took it back.

"You kid, that's all you can do in one go! Do you want to be beaten!?"

After all, Malashenko took action a step too late. The bottle of wine he had snatched was almost at the bottom, with only two small sips left.

"Hiccup, you can't blame me. I haven't had a drop of alcohol since we set off for the gathering. I can't hold it in for a long time."

""

After hearing Iushkin's answer, Malashenko was quite speechless. In fact, Malashenko still can't understand why the Soviets or later Russia are so damn dependent on alcohol.

Iushkin was like this, and his later best friend and Lavrinenko's great-grandson Rosov was also like this. It has not changed over decades and generations. Damn it, drinking this thing is like drinking Dali. If you don't drink it for a day, your whole body will feel uncomfortable.

If given a choice between a girl and vodka, Malashenko even suspected that this brat Iushkin would probably hug the vodka and leave, as long as you give him enough wine.

"Hey, that's all. If you like to drink, you may not be able to finish your meal after this meal. If you have wine today, you will get drunk today. No, you can't get drunk. You should drink now if you have wine."

Malashenko, who was chattering in his heart, handed the bottle to Artyom on the other side. Artyom, who was a local shipyard worker in Odessa, was naturally a good thief and a good drinker. It's just that Artyom can control this desire and is not as violent as the young and energetic Iushkin with wine.

Artyom took the bottle from Malashenko and before he could bring it to his mouth to drink, a voice came from under the turret basket and from the front of the car.

"Hey, save some for me, I haven't drunk it yet!"

""

There was a moment of silence in the turret, without any echo, as if he was reflecting and thinking.

"You are driving under the influence, no, Seryosha."

It was our big-mouthed comrade Iushkin who tried to answer the question, but the old man who wanted to drink was unwilling to be outdone.

"You're still drunk and firing shots. Do you have the right to criticize me?"

""

Iushkin, who was originally very eloquent, was speechless on the spot. He opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but couldn't utter a word for a long time. If he thought about it carefully, it seemed that what Seryosha said was indeed right. , that’s what happened.

"Okay, I've finished drinking. Give it to Seryosha."

Before Iushkin's brain circuit could switch back, Artyom, who had taken a sip himself and left an equal amount in the bottle, had already reached out and handed the bottle to Iushkin.

Looking at the wine bottle in front of him, turning his head and looking at Malashenko aside, Iushkin seemed to be looking for answers from Comrade Commander.

"What I just said was one mouthful for each person. Follow the order, Comrade Iushkin."

""

Iushkin, who was speechless, naturally had no choice but to do as he was told. He then reached out to take the bottle, bent down and handed it to Seryosha's head, who was driving.

"Here, take it."

"Um"

Before Iushkin could retract his seat in the turret basket, an unexpected and angry curse came from the front of the car.

"Iushkin, you bastard! Are you leaving this little for me? I'm going to kick your ass!"

Iushkin, whose expression was almost frozen, had a black line on his face as he cursed loudly. Seryosha's voice was really quite loud, enough for everyone in the car to hear clearly through the noise of the tank cap and engine.

"What does it have to do with me? Artyom drank that drink just now!"

Iushkin subconsciously tried to quibble, but Seryosha became even more angry.

"Don't lie to me! It's obvious that you drank the most. I heard everything Comrade Commander scolded you. Don't think that my ears are not good!"

""

In the end, the embarrassed Iushkin was unable to reply even a single sentence. Of course, he was the only one who was embarrassed to the end. He twisted his head and turned to one side, feeling depressed, and whispered at a decibel that only he could hear.

"It's just half a bottle of wine, and you blame me for it. It's too much! It's really too much!"