Steel Soviet Union

Malashenko did tell Alsim to take it easy and be merciful.

This SS leader who fights in an armored tin box is not a human punching bag that can withstand your willful torment. In terms of melee combat skills and skills, he may not even be as good as any ordinary soldier you have encountered before.

Not to mention that this guy has suffered from hunger since he was captured, but his quality of life is indeed not as good as before, and he is definitely not as able to withstand the torture as before.

Just one cigarette and three minutes.

When Malashenko pushed in the door three minutes later, the scene in front of him was miserable, but it wasn't much better.

Alsim continued to hammer there, or after finishing speaking, he returned to his original position, still as motionless as an iron tower.

As for Wittmann, he still sat back on his interrogation chair, or he was pushed back by Alsim in some way.

Now, although there are no handcuffs, Wittmann's condition is already more honest than wearing handcuffs.

Malashenko could clearly see the look in Wittmann's eyes, looking at Alsim standing still in front of him as if he were looking at a monster, as if Alsim was some indescribable fear rather than a person.

As for that knife, that heavy Nazi knife that Alsim brought back from the top of the Capitol as a trophy was once the exclusive weapon of Heisenberg, who was capable of fighting Alsim.

It is now placed on the table in front of Wittmann, but it has been directly inserted vertically into the iron interrogation table by a strong external force, instead of being left on the table in the state when Malashenko left.

He looked at Alsim, who was still calm, as if nothing had happened, and then at Wittmann, who was sitting there without saying a word.

Malashenko, who felt that this guy must have been stimulated in some way, remained silent. He took a step forward and came to his side. Seeing that he was still silent and motionless, he immediately reached out and grasped the heavy knife inserted in the iron table in front of him. , try to pull it out. I found that this thing couldn't be pulled out with one hand by my own strength. It was stuck and couldn't move.

You must know that Malashenko is not an ordinary person in terms of strength.

Not only does he have a tall and powerful figure of over 1.9 meters, but he also has the experience of playing with 122 shells in the past and now having fun with 130 shells. The entire Stalin series of heavy tanks can be rounded off as an "armor gym". The various daily activities of carrying artillery shells are enough to build a pair of unicorn arms.

Just like this, the knife that seemed to be simply inserted into the iron table in front of him, Malashenko could not move at all with one hand, let alone pull it out.

It can be seen that this thing is definitely not a two-time or even multiple insertions, but a one-time slam into shape to lock it so tightly.

Malashenko didn't know what happened in the room just now, but he guessed that Wittmann's appearance had a lot to do with the knife in front of him.

Who knows what Wittmann went through and what kind of strength he witnessed Alsim’s display, but in short, it’s good that he is fine.

I wasn't worried about whether Alsim was okay, I was just worried about whether Wittmann was missing an arm or a leg.

Looking up and down, I found that Wittmann's body parts were all still alive except for his complicated expression.

Malashenko, who was thinking that Alsim's work efficiency should be praised, sat down again. Before he could speak, he heard Wittmann, who had been silent until now, take the initiative to speak.

"Can you give me a cigarette?"

"Um?"

Although he deliberately tried to hide it, Malashenko could clearly hear Wittmann's tone and his voice was trembling to some extent, as if he had just climbed out of the sunken Titanic.

After hearing this, Malashenko did not respond directly. He turned to look at Alsim and found that his face was still calm. It seemed that Wittmann's bells and whistles were not even qualified to catch his eye.

“When was the last time you smoked?”

He took out the cigarette case and refilled himself with another cigarette. He held the cigarette in his mouth and opened his mouth, and at the same time passed one to Wittmann.

Wittmann reached out to take the cigarette, shakily put it into his mouth and held it in his mouth. This action also failed to escape Malashenko's eyes, and the tone he spoke next was slightly calmer than before.

"Before I was caught by you, I smoked the last cigarette in the remains of the Tiger King before I came out and shared it with others."

That's right, at least I can speak human words, instead of just opening my mouth and starting to curse or be weird.

Malashenko's guess was correct. Asking Alsim to teach Wittmann was indeed effective. If you don't listen to the good words, you can only give you a "little Slavic shock."

"Well, it was indeed a long time ago. It has been a while, and it has been quite uncomfortable, right?"

Depressed and mentally tortured all day long without the comfort of nicotine, Malashenko could imagine that Wittmann must not be living a very good life these days. This look is more beggars than a gang of beggars. prove.

If they hadn't known it in advance, who would have thought that the slovenly man in front of him, like a beggar, was actually the famous Nazi number one armored ace, the king of the rankings with a record of 196 vehicles.

Whether it's fate or don't judge people by their appearance, it all applies to Wittmann now.

"What do you really want? Do you want me to ride on you like a dog, just like the coward of the National Defense Force? I tell you clearly that this is impossible. Even if you make me scared, you still can't make me give in!"

"fear?"

""

When Malashenko singled out key words to emphasize the question, Wittmann looked embarrassed when he realized that he had subconsciously let something slip.

The corner of his eye glanced at Alsim but he still dared not look directly at him, as if the person standing there was not a person but a ghost. Malashenko, who saw it in his eyes and remembered it in his heart, just smiled slightly.

"I never intended to make you surrender, nor did I want to accept a two-legged person as a dog. You completely misunderstood what I meant."

"What I want to say remains the same. I'm here to see you today for an interview. You probably won't get a better job opportunity in the rest of your life than you do today. Do you really want to be locked up in a labor camp?" Ten or twenty years later, all I have left to do after I come out is dragging my sick body around to write some painless moaning memoirs, right?"

"Maybe I am saying this redundantly, but I still want to remind you, Wittmann."

"Don't forget, you are not even a legal soldier. Strictly speaking, you can only be regarded as a die-hard militant, and it is illegal. Do you understand what I mean?"

""

Wittmann certainly understood what his SS status meant, and the steel butcher in front of him was indeed not trying to scare him.

The only recognized orthodox armed force in Germany has always been the Wehrmacht. As for the SS, they are just a group of illegal armed elements kept captive by the Nazis.

Ordinary prisoners of war in the Wehrmacht could be released early and go home after Germany was defeated, but these losers in the SS were not even qualified to be prisoners of war. How could they talk about the treatment of prisoners of war?

The Soviets had 10,000 valid reasons for imprisoning themselves until death and working themselves to death in labor camps. As Steel Butcher said, it will be released in ten or twenty years. To a certain extent, it is promising and relatively good.

"Besides, if I remember correctly, your pregnant wife should be giving birth soon, and the due date is this fall, right? Wouldn't it be nice to get a good, decent new job and go back to support the family and be with your wife and children? ? She misses you very much and is still waiting for her hero to come home."

""

If Wittmann's expression just now was one of fear and despair, he was almost overwhelmed by the completely dark foreseeable future.

Now, the expression so clearly reflected in Malashenko's sight was that of complete panic and confusion.

"What did you do!? What did you do to Hilde!!!"

Seeing that he was about to lose control on the spot, Wittmann almost bolted from his chair and stood up, trying to pounce on Malashenko.

Alsim, who had been standing behind Malashenko, didn't even say a word. He just took a step forward and stared at the crazy SS soldier who was about to lose control of his mind. chief.

Wittmann's almost uncontrollable movements stopped, just like the pause button of Contra was pressed. The picture changed from dynamic to still and froze. To be more precise, he couldn't move.

"Calm down, Mr. Wittmann. I, Malashenko, do not have a heroic appearance, and I have no interest in your wife."

"But you also know that Germany is in ruins now. Mrs. Wittmann has a big belly and no food and clothing. I, Malashenko, ask myself that I should help whenever I can. After all, although you and I are rivals, but with women , It has nothing to do with my wife, and it has nothing to do with the unborn child in my belly, right? "

He stood up and came to Wittmann's side, walking and talking. As he spoke, he raised his hand to put on Wittmann's shoulder, and gently pushed him back into the chair to sit down.

With his right hand, he took out a lighter and personally lit the cigarette that Wittmann had held in his mouth but had not touched. At the same time, his other left hand reached into the lining of his coat, took out the autographed letter he had brought with him, and He handed it to Wittmann.

"She loves you very much and needs you. She is helpless and helpless. Please ask me to bring you this letter."

"You and I are both soldiers, and more importantly, men. Before you fulfill your loyalty and filial piety for the dead son, you shouldn't think about your unborn child and your wife who was pregnant with you in October. ? Are they not as good as those who have gone to hell, and are the living people worse than the dead ghosts? "

"Think about it and think about what you should do."

While Wittmann opened and read the autographed letter from his wife with smoke coming from his mouth and trembling hands, Malashenko strolled around the interrogation room and continued to speak quietly. .

"Germany is extremely sick and rotten to the core, and there is no way to save it."

"The Nazu has polluted this land. What we have to do is to completely purify it and burn the Nazu to ashes."

"A new Germany will be reborn on this purified land, a Germany that is completely untainted by Nazism!"

"The remnants of the war will be lost in history, and the patriots will rise again. They will give everything they have for the motherland they love deeply. They will make Germany great again!"

"So, what do you think?"

After wandering around the interrogation room for a week, he returned to Wittmann. The condescending Malashenko left the last question in a overlooking manner.

"Should we be buried with the Nazis and become a history of failure and destruction, or should we become a reborn patriot fighting for tomorrow?"

"Your wife and unborn child are waiting for your answer to tell them your decision."

""

With a cigarette in one hand and letter paper in both hands, Wittmann raised his head tremblingly, and his final answer was still a rhetorical question.

"Then what exactly have I been fighting for?"

"In order to witness the defeat and destruction of the Nazis with your own eyes, and then remember the history and pass it on to the next generation to avoid repeating the same mistakes. Then build everything destroyed by the Nazis into a better tomorrow, use your own hands!"

""

Without any more words, the right hand he extended toward Malashenko after quietly putting down the letter was already the best answer.

"Congratulations, you passed the interview and the job is yours."

Malashenko responded with an upward smile and held Wittmann's hand. What he had been preparing for since he was still in Berlin could finally be said to have been in vain.

Malashenko left with Alsim, but there was crying in the interrogation room where no one was left behind.

She was crying so loudly that the sky was dark, so loud that the sound could be heard even through the iron door, making people in the corridor outside the door hear her clearly.

"What's wrong with him? Why are he crying?"

Krauser, who had just arrived, was puzzled and asked questions with doubts, but he did not understand why a die-hard SS leader was crying so heartbrokenly. Only Malashenko's answer remained calm as before.

"Let him cry. Give him some time and space. If he wants to see me, please contact me."

"Also, pay attention and observe. It is best to get to know him again in the future. I hope you can have a happy working relationship with him in the future."