Steel Soviet Union

The Red Army soldiers who were constantly charging around the car were not enough to arouse any interest in Malashenko. Malashenko, who only wanted to save people, now wished he was driving a flying tank T80U instead of this bulky tank. KV1, but no matter what, it was still faster than running on foot with a person on his back, which finally prompted Malashenko to give up his thoughts.

"Seryozha, can't we go faster? It's too slow now!"

While holding the joystick in his hand tightly, he pressed the sole of his foot to the accelerator pedal and never let go. Seryosha, who had already driven the tank at full speed, acted very well in the face of Malashenko's repeated questions. It's helpless.

"This is already the fastest speed, Comrade Commander, our KV1 can only run at this speed. The off-road road conditions are really bad!"

The Soviet Union, which had never been in the habit of building roads, greatly slowed down the advance of the German mechanized armored forces and bought time for its own side to build a follow-up large-depth defense line from a passive perspective.

But the Soviet tank force, which was also greatly limited by this, also faced the problem of slowed off-road maneuvering speed. Before this, it had complained about the endless off-road conditions due to the poor transmission system of the KV1 heavy tank. Now it is urgent to rescue people. Malashenko was so anxious that his hair almost burned when he faced the endless snowfield with no way to go.

"This damn broken road, damn snow! Why can't these bastards build some smoother roads outside Moscow? Do we really have nothing but railways!?"

The manic howling in his heart was of no help to the cruel and real reality in front of him. The annoyance and anger in his heart had accumulated to the point where it could not be added anymore. Malashenko felt the motionless body in his arms, which was still warm. The blood had completely wetted the white flag that the French had used and soaked Malashenko's hands.

"Damn it, the bleeding can't be stopped! Iushkin! Are there any decent medical supplies in the car, even gauze?"

"I'm looking for it, comrade commander! Damn it, these damn bullet casing collection boxes are scattered all over the floor again!"

Iushkin, who was rummaging around in the vehicle body storage space directly under the turret seat ring for anything available, was a little flustered. He unintentionally kicked his right foot, which was already somewhat unstable, directly under the turret. The shell casing collection box was kicked over.

With a clanking sound, it rolled out of the overturned collection box and scattered all over the floor. Iushkin, who was already running out of time and was scrambling against every second, was even more annoyed when he saw this scene.

"Even you shell casings are helping those Germans. Where are these damn medical supplies? I remember they were placed here last time."

The Soviet tank troops, which have never been in the habit of equipping their vehicles with medical first aid kits, naturally looked a little shabby. Even before Kirill was injured this time, he always wondered whether his crew would be injured in the vehicle during a certain battle. Malashenko was prepared for a rainy day. Through the back door of a trust relationship, he obtained several medical first-aid kits seized from crashed German planes, and equipped them for his regiment's vehicles as well as for Lavrinenko's and his own cars. Got one.

However, the Soviet tank crews, who have a relatively narrow space in the vehicle, always dislike these German-made items. The emergency medical kit, which is much larger than a shoe box, does not have much use in normal times. The Soviet tank crews tried their best to stuff these emergency medical kits into places where Lei couldn't see them to save space.

There is no doubt that Iushkin, who is in a hurry to save Kirill at this critical moment, is such a Soviet tank gunner.

He rummaged through the turret storage box, the car body storage box, the shell collection box, right under the seat, and even the buttocks of Nikolai, the electromechanical technician who was incompatible with him, as anxious as an ant on a hot pot. Iushkin, who was anxious and angry, searched for more than a minute, but could not find the German tin box that usually seemed to be in the way.

Just when Iushkin, who was full of resentment, was about to return to the turret storage box to rummage again, there was a crisp sound of metal products hitting the ground due to the bumpy off-road road.

Iushkin, who almost missed this key sound, was stunned for a moment and suddenly turned his head and looked behind him. The clear sound of metal collision was obviously the invisible dark sound coming from the fuel tanks on both sides of the car body. Coming from around the corner.

"I think I found it, Comrade Commander!"

After letting out a slightly surprised shout, he immediately bent down again and pounced towards the dark corner of the fuel tank. The fire-proof combat uniform worn on the outermost layer of the cotton-padded coat was immediately scratched by the dark oil stains mixed with dust. , Iushkin, who didn't take it to heart and completely forgot about it, immediately touched a square iron box that felt cold to the touch in his right hand that stretched forward.

"This is it, I found it, Comrade Commander!"

Holding the first-aid medical kit he had just found, Iushkin suddenly stood up and almost hit his head. Iushkin, who didn't care about these trivial matters, quickly lifted the iron box tightly in his arms toward his head. Send this substantial trophy to Malashenko, who is holding Kirill in his arms in the turret.

Malashenko, who successfully received the life-saving iron box, did not dare to neglect at all. After placing the box beside him, he immediately reached out and opened the lock mechanism to reveal the contents in front of his eyes.

Pure white medical gauze, white tape bundled in rolls, metal syringes filled with unknown medicines, and several small and large medicine bottles with words written in German that he could not understand were Malashenko's list. Everything I saw after Wuyu.

"Medicine, do the Germans distribute antibiotics right now? Damn, I can't remember! Fuck the syringe, just put a bandage on it to stop the bleeding first."

In desperation, Malashenko, who blurted out his authentic native dialect, no longer cared too much. Iushkin, who was sweating profusely from work and had climbed back into the turret, also cared. Don't listen to the few words said by the comrade commander that you don't understand at all.

The two people who rushed to rescue the man immediately took out the medical gauze and white tape that could be used for explosions from the box. They pulled the stuff in their hands and put it on Kirill's back in an unprofessional way. As for the wound on his back, the white French flag that had been dyed crimson by communism was thrown into the bullet casing collection box at his feet by Malashenko like throwing snot paper, and he was no longer in the mood to take care of it.