Steel Soviet Union

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When he woke up the next morning, it was already three o'clock in the morning. Malashenko couldn't remember how long it had been since he had slept in.

The two-week vacation granted to Malashenko by Vatutin starts today. After waking up, Malashenko no longer has to worry about how to fuck more Germans today. The comfort of being able to sit comfortably by the bed and smoke a cigarette, and then slowly get dressed and get up, really made Malashenko feel as if he was living in a fairyland.

As for what happened last night, Malashenko, who is used to alternating emotions, has already learned to accept the reality.

People who live in memories can never move into the future. Malashenko knows this very well, and naturally knows what he should do.

"I don't know which train I should take back today. I didn't even have a planned route before. It's so sudden to take a good vacation."

After scratching his head and extinguishing the cigarette butt, Malashenko, who didn't even know how he slept in bed last night, noticed his clothes.

The long-sleeved military uniform that was stained with blood, mud, and sweat was already as hard as a burnt teppanyaki. Malashenko stretched out his hand and flicked the chest of the suit. He could even feel that his fingers could not move. look.

When was the last time you changed clothes? Who knows when.

Malashenko, who had already worn the clothes into a piece, felt that there was no need to wash them anymore, so he simply rolled up the clothes with both hands and threw them directly into the garbage basin at the end of the bed.

Then he stretched his head and looked under the bed, and sure enough he found the luggage bag that someone had stuffed under the bed for him.

Malashenko opened the buttons and rummaged in his bag, and took out the brand-new tank corps colonel officer's uniform that he had never worn before. He then continued to rummage and pulled out the white shirt and military coat he wore inside.

Malashenko, who had no intention of putting on these clothes immediately, folded the clothes one by one and hung them on his arms. Then he held the basin that he had used for washing but had not been used for a long time and went to He put a stick in his mouth and lit it on fire, then turned around and walked out the door. To be more precise, Malashenko didn't even know where he was now.

"Yes, that's it for the time being. Go and inform Battalion Commander Kurbalov to come to the brigade headquarters for a meeting at one o'clock in the afternoon, and bring this document to him. If there are no problems, let him sign it and bring it to the meeting in the afternoon. Just come here and give it to me, remember to tell him not to forget, go ahead."

"Okay, Comrade Political Commissar, I'll go right away."

Malashenko, who had clothes on his arms, a basin in his arms, and a cigarette in his mouth, was leaning against the door in a dirty little shirt like a gangster, waiting with interest. The moment Commissar Petrov turned his head.

"Huh? Are you awake? It's only half past eight. I thought you wouldn't wake up until at least twelve o'clock."

Putting the cigarette in his mouth into his hand, Malashenko looked very relaxed with a smile on his face.

"Tell me if there is a bathing place at the brigade headquarters. Don't tell me there isn't. I smell like a moving garbage dump. I won't be able to go home to see Natalia."

Political Commissar Petrov, who gently threw the folder in his hand on the table and closed the pen cap with one hand, smiled and shook his head.

"I knew you would make such a request. If there is no hot water, I will find a way to make it for you."

"Go check out the bathroom on the first floor. There's everything you need there."

Malashenko, who felt that no one understood him better than Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, patted Commissar Petrov on the shoulder, then walked through the hall and walked downstairs with a bunch of things in his arms.

Political Commissar Petrov, who had been watching Malashenko walking down the stairs, curled his lips, and when he looked back again, his expression was a little envious.

"It's good to be young! At least there is a beautiful girl waiting to go back home, unlike me who will die alone."

Is Comrade Political Commissar talking to himself and expressing his emotions?

Not necessarily, at least Comrade Chief of Staff, who was sitting across the desk from the office, felt that this should be a conversation for himself.

"But you can still find it now, Comrade Political Commissar. I can assure you that there are many girls in their twenties who want to marry a man like you."

"Solidity, maturity, reliability, and a hero. These are the most powerful secret weapons, Comrade Political Commissar."

A girl in her twenties? A lot more?

Political Commissar Petrov smiled bitterly and shook his head. His old bones couldn't bear the torment. This joke was not funny.

"I'll just leave it like this. I think it's good to watch the younger generation like you grow up."

"What are you talking about? Comrade Political Commissar, I don't seem to be too much younger than you. At least we should be considered equals."

"But you still have to call me brother. If it's really based on seniority, am I not talking about it? Young man."

""

In terms of bickering skills, Malashenko is probably the only person in the entire 1st Guards Heavy Tank Brigade who can compete with Commissar Petrov.

The chief of staff smiled and shook his head, knowing that he would be asking for trouble if he continued to stumble, so he continued to devote himself to his work and began to correct the documents in front of him.

Political Commissar Petrov is also busy preparing materials for the afternoon meeting. If Malashenko is absent, he will have to do the work that should be done by the brigade commander, but Political Commissar Petrov himself has no idea about this. Not the slightest complaint.

Compared with Malashenko, who led the troops into the battle, he, who could only stay at the rear brigade headquarters because of his physical disability, was no longer so dedicated.

If he can't even do his job as a penman in the rear, Commissar Petrov feels that it's time for him to consider retiring, because that will only mean that his head is starting to be a little hard to use, and he will have no choice but to go home. Retired.

At the same time, Malashenko, whose dirty clothes were scattered all over the bathroom, had already sunk into the iron bucket and started enjoying himself.

Every pore in his body was relaxed in the hot water of just the right temperature. It really made our brigade commander so comfortable that he really wanted to grunt like a well-fed old sow.

"Ah~~~ It feels so good, you mother. Being able to take a hot bath is like heaven. Fuck you, Nazi fascist pig!"

Malashenko, who was so happy that he didn't forget to curse his enemies twice, was not only enjoying the good times, but also asked whether there was anything left to do before leaving. This is what Malashenko is thinking about now. .

"It seems like there is nothing left to do. Everything that needs to be done is almost done."

"After washing and tidying up, I can just take the train and forget about it. I don't have much time to continue taking my time."