Steel Soviet Union

The moment he walked into the division headquarters camp, Malashenko seemed to realize something, but in the end he still did not dare to say that he was sure, but there was a feeling in the dark that the situation was heading towards The last thing I want to see is the development in the worst direction. ReadМ

As for what the worst-case scenario is, Malashenko himself can't say clearly. He only hopes that after asking the political commissar for verification in person, the worst result he expected will not happen.

"What's wrong? Why is everyone looking so bad? What happened?"

Malashenko's words were intended to stir up the atmosphere, as if as long as the scene where he spoke was more lively and warm, the worst expected situation would not befall him.

Comrade Political Commissar was sitting on a chair, with his only remaining hand holding the corner of the table, holding a half-burned cigarette between his fingers. Not to mention the expression on his face, this state alone made Comrade Ma very nervous. Is surprised.

Since being diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer, Commissar Petrov has followed Dr. Karachev's advice and almost changed his habit of smoking cigarettes like Comrade Ma. ׺°”˜˜`”°º×

Unless you are working overtime late at night or doing something else that requires refreshing your mind, you will almost never see a cigarette caught in the hands of a political commissar. But now Malashenko didn't see Comrade Comrade Comrade working overtime or busy with anything else. He was just sitting like this, holding an obviously half-smoked cigarette in his hand.

Malashenko subconsciously turned his head, but then he saw that the ashtray made of a German helmet on the table was stuffed with a lot of cigarette butts, which was at least as much as a pack of cigarettes.

Maybe it was not just Comrade Political Commissar who smoked in it. After all, the big smoker Lavri had just left the division headquarters camp. Who knows how much he had smoked here before.

But there is only one thing that Malashenko can be sure of at this moment. The cigarette in his hand must not be the first one that the political commissar has smoked.

"What's wrong with you? You're talking. What happened to make you welcome me back in this state? We went south to complete the mission and severely defeated the bastards of the Skeleton Master. You know this. This Shouldn’t it be a great joy? Why bother like this?”

Malashenko really didn't understand why everyone was either a Riddler or taciturn with a strange look on his face. What's more, after seeing him, his eyes even flickered and he didn't dare to look directly into his eyes. What the hell is this? What could have happened to make this happen? Even political commissar comrades have fallen into this state.

Malashenko's face was filled with impatience. Comrade Comrade Political Commissar seemed to be thinking about something. Without commenting, he did not directly answer. Instead, he flicked the cigarette ashes in his hand and threw the cigarette butt into the ashes. In the tank, after a soft but heavy sigh, he slowly spoke to Malashenko.

"Before I tell you, I have to give you something first. I hope this will make you mentally prepared."

""

Malashenko blinked twice and was speechless. He had no idea what Comrade Comrade Political Commissar meant or what he would give him next. The staff officers and other comrades in the entire division were busy with their own affairs. , no one dared to look this way, no one spoke, the silence was terrifying.

When Comrade Comrade Political Commissar threw away his cigarette butt, he reached into his pocket and took out something. He put it on the table and placed it safely in front of Malashenko. Mara, who had never guessed what Comrade Comrade Political Commissar would give him, Only then did Shenke discover that what Comrade Political Commissar took out of his pocket was actually a harmonica.

"This, I thought it was something. What's so strange about this thing? Isn't it just one?"

Malashenko tried to pretend to be relaxed and smile, as if he had breathed a sigh of relief.

But the words he was laughing at stopped abruptly, because the harmonica in front of him looked familiar and stained with blood.

After taking a closer look, Malashenko realized that this harmonica looked inexplicably familiar and had definitely been seen before.

The blood stains on it have dried and stopped, but they have not turned black enough to be stained by the passage of time.

With his mind blank, Malashenko didn't think about too many other things, or he didn't dare to think about it at all, and he didn't have the consciousness to think about it. He just mechanically stretched out his arms and picked up the machine like a machine on a factory assembly line. He took the things on the table in front of him and placed them in his palms.

It was only after he took the harmonica in front of him and took a closer look at it that Malashenko realized in shock that his heart suddenly felt like a landslide and a tsunami.

This harmonica, which made me feel strangely familiar, turned out to be Kirill's personal belongings. I once borrowed it to perform Midnight Nocturne with Natalia, letting the leisurely singing and melody resound through the Moscow night sky.

"Why, why did you give this thing to me? If Kirill's things are not allowed to be kept by himself, why should they be given to me?"

Is Malashenko unaware of the implications?

Comrade Political Commissar raised his eyes slightly and glanced at Malashenko in front of him with such doubts.

However, I found that Malashenko's facial expression was not completely ignorant. There was obviously a look of disbelief and fear in his familiar eyes, just like a child who had done something wrong and was afraid of what would happen. It's like losing something.

But the more Malashenko looked like this, the more Comrade Comrade Political Commissar did not dare to look at him, or even say the next words.

I don’t know how long passed in a dead silence. When Malashenko did not continue to ask questions, but just held the harmonica in his hand and kept a rigid and fixed face. Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, who knew that what had happened was absolutely inescapable, finally spoke again.

"Kirill died. It was the thing he cherished most during his lifetime. It was a gift his mother gave him before he left when he was admitted to college."

"You are more suitable to hold this thing than me. You are the one who guided him to become a true Red Army soldier, a party member, and a brave man. Giving it to you is what Kirill hopes."

""

""

There was no subsequent dialogue, and what remained between this old and young pair, an old and a young pair who had been tested on the battlefield and had a tacit understanding of each other, was the silence of both you and me.

After an unknown amount of time passed, Malashenko, who had a stiff face, suddenly laughed, but the look that was about to shed tears and the trembling voice really didn't look like a good smile.