Chapter 1082 Hurrah! It’s Time to Eat!

Since it was lunchtime, Malashenko suggested getting some food to fill their stomachs and then chatting while eating.

After all, no one can predict the outcome of a war. Although Malashenko was 80% sure that the Germans would hardly launch a large-scale group attack this afternoon, it was only 80%, not 100%.

So in order to be safe, it is best to eat immediately when it is time to eat, lest the Germans really go crazy and launch another pig-like attack, and you are still on your way to get food with your lunch box in your hand. If that happens, you should be prepared to throw away the lunch box immediately and fight on an empty stomach, even Comrade Brigade Commander is no exception.

Although Major Valosha agreed with Malashenko's proposal to eat and talk, he thought that Malashenko would sit in the brigade headquarters and wait for the orderly to bring him the meal. However, Major Valosha did not expect that Malashenko would take out a lunch box and a set of tableware from his small canvas bag, and then waved directly at him.

"Let's go, why are you still standing there? Follow me to line up for food."

Major Valosha did not bring a lunch box with him. Malashenko touched the stubble on his chin and thought about it. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he found a "good substitute" for Major Valosha: a brand new helmet that no one had ever used.

It is not uncommon to eat and drink with a helmet. Both Malashenko and Valosha have done this before: in Stalingrad, where it is considered good to be able to save one's life.

Malashenko, who once lost his water bottle and lunch box, had no other choice but to use his black hands that looked like he had just dug coal briquettes for three days and three nights to dig for food.

Malashenko, who couldn't find a good substitute for the time being, simply took a bloodless steel helmet from the German's body, washed it and rinsed it in the water, and then used it to drink water and eat directly.

But the premise is that there is really food that can be put in the lunch box. Most of the time, Malashenko could only eat dry bread during his time in Stalingrad, day after day, and he had very few fresh and hot meals during the entire Battle of Stalingrad.

Major Valosha's experience is similar to Malashenko's. They both lost their water bottles and lunch boxes hanging on their hips during the Battle of Stalingrad. Even if they thought about it afterwards, they couldn't remember when they lost them. They had no impression at all.

For these two men who had also experienced the life and death purgatory of Stalingrad, it was really no problem to use helmets to drink water and eat, even if they used dead people.

What? You ask if they are not afraid of having nightmares in the middle of the night because of dirty things?

Sorry, communist fighters are not afraid of evil. If ghosts dare to come, Malashenko dares to knock them down with a hammer and sickle in his own hands, and finally use a 122 gun to wipe them out without leaving any residue, just like that.

The nearest cooking point to the brigade headquarters is the Second Tank Battalion. Malashenko didn't think too much when he went out and led Valosha to chat. After walking on the grass for a while, the aroma of food floated over.

"Ah! This smell is so good, comrade brigade commander! I can smell it, it's the aroma of milk and oatmeal!"

Malachenko didn't quite believe it when he heard it, thinking how come you can smell it, my nose can't smell anything? I don't have a cold. ơɱ

But when the two brothers really came to the kitchen, Malachenko, with his eyes almost wide open, had to admit that the thing boiling in the big pot of the field kitchen trailer was really a full pot of steaming milk oatmeal porridge.

"Why is your nose so sharp? Why didn't I smell it just now?"

"Ah, this"

Major Valosha, who was busy looking into the pot, couldn't answer for a while. Malachenko, who was a little depressed, didn't say anything more after all, just thinking that Valosha's nose was really much better than his own.

Malashenko and Valosha were talking to each other, but the cook who was cooking the porridge was not so calm and became interested instantly.

"Hey, brigade commander! Why did you come to get food in person? I can send someone to deliver it to you, you don't have to come in person."

When he heard someone calling him, Malashenko looked around and immediately waved to the fat uncle who was cooking. Uncle Ivan, who cooked delicious food in the brigade, was the one in front of him.

"Is there anything else to eat? Uncle Ivan, such as meat?"

Because Uncle Ivan not only cooked delicious food, but also smiled all day long like a fat and good man like Maitreya Buddha, if a young comrade couldn't sleep in the middle of the night because of hunger and went to Uncle Ivan, he would probably cook for him secretly, and he would get two pieces of black bread from Uncle Ivan to fill his stomach and fall asleep, and return satisfied.

As time went by, the reputation of Ivan, the good-natured squad leader of the Second Tank Battalion, spread. The young soldiers were happy to call this good-natured squad leader, who was almost the same age as their fathers, Uncle Ivan.

The name became more and more popular, and some soldiers from other battalions who didn't know what Uncle Ivan's name was also called that. It was simple and convenient anyway, and Uncle Ivan was also happy to be called that because it seemed friendly.

To be honest, Malashenko didn’t know what Uncle Ivan’s real name was, because it was too long. He forgot it not long after reading it in the report. He only remembered that there was an Uncle Ivan in the logistics kitchen of the second battalion who cooked delicious food. He went there several times to eat with him and get to know Uncle Ivan so that he could get some delicious food in the future.

Other soldiers called him Uncle Ivan, which was fine and seemed friendly, but the brigade commander, Malashenko, also called him that. At first, Uncle Ivan was scared to death, and he basically couldn’t call him again.

But after several reminders and persuasions failed, Malashenko still didn’t change his old ways and kept calling him “Uncle Ivan” casually.

After calling him so many times, Uncle Ivan himself was too embarrassed to remind the brigade commander again, so he just let it go. After all, it’s not a bad thing, right?

Hearing the brigade commander asking about the food he prepared, Uncle Ivan, who had finally waited for the brigade commander to come to inspect at lunch time, immediately became interested. He hurriedly waved his hand with a simple smile and asked Malashenko to come to another field kitchen trailer.

As soon as the lid of the thermos was opened, Malashenko, who was holding a lunch box in his hand, immediately smelled a strong meaty aroma. This happy taste was far from the cold American luncheon meat cans. Just smelling it made people drool.

"Beef stew with potatoes, brigade commander! Enough meat for all the comrades in the battalion. The ingredients of our brigade are getting better day by day. It was really a headache for me to cook before, but now it is completely different!"

Indeed, since the honorary title of the Soviet supreme leader, the changes in Malashenko's troops, which were gloriously upgraded to the Stalin Guards First Heavy Tank Brigade, are undoubtedly visible to the naked eye.

These changes are not only reflected in the replenishment of weapons and personnel, but also in the food that is delivered, which is getting better and better every day. Basically, we can have one or two meat meals every week.

If there is a tough battle to fight, the food will be even better. This is the political task personally issued by Political Commissar Petrov: the logistics and cooking units of each combat battalion must ensure that the soldiers can eat the most delicious food under their ability before fighting the enemy, and the same is true after returning from the war.

Malashenko, who felt that he was about to jump into the bucket, drooled and couldn't hold it anymore. He immediately opened the lid of the lunch box and handed over his meal without saying a word.

Valosha, who was holding a round steel helmet in his arms, didn't even drink the porridge. He directly handed over his helmet-style lunch box with both hands and ate the meat to his heart's content first.

Then, with their eyes shining, Malashenko and Varosha saw that Uncle Ivan, still smiling, raised his oversized rice spoon, which was even bigger than his helmet. The wooden spoon handle was as thick as the barrel of a German 37-knocking brick cannon. This scene was obviously no longer something that could be described by the word "cool".