Chapter 1057 Afterglow

The setting sun hung high in the sky in the distance. Malashenko, who had left his car, walked between the positions. His feet were stained with blood and the lives of the loyal guardians of this land.

The German army retreated. The fanatics who were not afraid of death and were willing to give everything and even their lives for their beliefs and the high leader finally failed to break through this red position. They left thousands of corpses and dozens of burning tank wreckages in front of the position and retreated.

The soldiers were cleaning up the battlefield and confiscating all valuable and useful things from the bodies of the German soldiers on the position, including weapons, ammunition, cigarettes, lighters, and even bread and paper-wrapped sausages that were not eaten in their pockets.

The SS commando captain who had half of his body pulled out of the tank was now lying on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring at the sky above his head, which was painted by the afterglow and colorful clouds. The bayonet stuck in his chest was the final weapon that took his life. The blood that flowed down his clothes and all over the ground had already dried and solidified.

He once risked his life to save others, but when he was about to die, no one risked his life to save him. All around him were the bodies of his comrades who were shot to death by pistols, swept over by submachine guns, and stabbed in the chest by bayonets.

This commando captain, who had emptied all the magazines he carried with him and swung around with an engineer shovel, died at the last moment of failure.

Holding his Suomi submachine gun, which he had not been willing to throw away until now, Malashenko came to the body of the SS commando captain and kicked away another German corpse pressing on his stomach. The silver-shining object hanging around his neck obviously caught Malashenko's attention.

Reaching into the collar and pulling down slightly, the metal bead chain was easily broken by Malashenko, who had a strong hand. The object in Malashenko's palm turned out to be a metal pendant that could store photos.

Click——

The thumb of his right hand moved slightly, and Malashenko opened the cover of the pendant to see what was inside.

The girl on the left of the photo was smiling brightly, and the man on the right had a very handsome slicked back hair and wore a military uniform, but the skull mark on the uniform made Malashenko, whose face was covered with stains and blood, feel sick instantly after seeing it.

"Go to hell and have sex with this bitch, idiot!"

The pendant was thrown out and thrown on the top of the commando captain's forehead. It bounced lightly and fell into a blood puddle that could no longer be absorbed by the ground. It made a light splash like a heavy object entering the water and disappeared.

Soldiers carrying stretchers passed by Malashenko slowly. The occasional painful groans from the stretcher made people feel uncomfortable.

Malashenko turned around and walked forward, following the direction of the painful groans and stopped two soldiers carrying stretchers.

The soldiers recognized the man in front of them, who was dressed like an ordinary tank soldier. He was Colonel Malashenko, the commander of the 1st Heavy Tank Brigade of Stalin's Guards, who came to support their defense. They nodded to Malashenko when it was inconvenient to salute and both hands were occupied. Malashenko, who took off his black leather gloves while walking, responded with a military salute.

"Where is the injury? Comrade."

Malashenko, who spoke first, also walked to the stretcher and found that the wounded soldier on the stretcher was actually a tank soldier under his command. The iconic outfit and the Guards badge on his chest were silently telling Malashenko about his identity.

"Deputy company commander of the third company of the first tank battalion, Captain Borisov reports to you, I wish you good health, comrade brigade commander."

The captain, with his entire right arm wrapped in bandages, lay on a stretcher and saluted Malashenko with difficulty. Every slight force made his already distorted expression even more wrinkled.

"No need to salute me, stop your movements! Captain Borisov, you need to rest well now."

Malashenko vaguely remembered that he had seen this company commander when he inspected the first battalion of Kurbalov. If he remembered correctly, this should be a main company commander around Kurbalov. The command vehicle he was assigned should be the battalion headquarters command type IS2 that Kurbalov replaced after receiving the IS6.

"My car was shot through by the Germans three times, Comrade Brigade Commander."

"The gunner and loader were killed. The driver and I put out the fire in the car twice. By the third time, we really had no way to continue to put out the fire. All the things that could be used to put out the fire were used up. I even threw my own kettle in. I don't know how I fell down. I just remember that the fire surrounded me and there were countless German tanks next to me."

"When I opened my eyes again, I was lifted out of the tank and lying on a stretcher. The doctor said that half of my body was burned. I was lucky to survive. Can I come back to fight again? Comrade Brigade Commander."

Malachenko did not uncover the blanket covering Borisov. Just the smell of burnt human flesh floating in his nostrils knew that the truth would only be worse. Malachenko, who was used to this smell, had become insensitive to it and even numb to it.

"You will come back, Captain Borisov, and the comrades will always wait for you to come back."

"You led your comrades to fight well. I saw your battalion at the front beat the Germans to a bloody pulp. You were very brave! I will inform the front headquarters of your deeds in my name and apply for honors for you. You can just rest and wait for the newspapers to appear!"

Captain Borisov, whose actual burn area was nearly 70% of his body, forgot the pain for a moment and no longer groaned in pain.

Malachenko could see the sparkling tears in his excited eyes. They were for more comrades who did not survive until now, and they could no longer be suppressed.

Malachenko, who was somewhat moved by the scene, waved his hand with red eyes to signal to lift the man down. He wiped his face with his dirty sleeves to wipe off the sticky blood stains. A man who was walking with big strides from not far away was waving to Malachenko.

"It's great to see you again, Comrade Malashenko! Without your help, we can't win this battle. We met in Stalingrad. Do you remember me?"

Malashenko is not a person with a good memory. He even forgets things easily.

But for those who have fought side by side with him, Malashenko can always remember them, such as the division commander Mavonov in front of him.