Chapter 1093 Comrade Brigade Commander Is at the Front Line

Commander Suvorov thought that Malashenko, who had rushed to the rescue day and night, would order the troops to take a short break, or at least carefully test the enemy's defense situation before launching an assault.

But what Commander Suvorov did not expect was.

After simply arranging the attack plan and jointly discussing and drawing up a simple cooperation plan, Malashenko, who had no intention of waiting any longer, directly grabbed the tank cap on the table, turned his hand over and placed it in his palm, and then put it on his head.

Without saying a word, he turned around and walked straight out of Commander Suvorov's forward command post and strode away.

"Where is he, comrade Malashenko, going? What is she going to do?"

Malashenko left first, but fortunately, Lavrinenko, who came with him, had not left yet.

Looking at Commander Suvorov, who was completely unaware of the truth and looked at a loss, Lavrinenko, who knew that this situation was a bit special, rubbed his nose and smiled.

"There is a famous saying in our Stalin Guards 1st Heavy Tank Brigade, or is it more appropriate to say a famous dialogue? Anyway, it means something similar. Are you interested?"

The leap in thinking is indeed a bit huge. Suvorov, the division commander, obviously has not reacted immediately, but this does not prevent Lavrinenko from continuing to speak with a smile.

"Every time it comes to this, in our Stalin Guards 1st Heavy Tank Brigade, if someone asks where the brigade commander is, of course, people in our brigade basically don't ask this question, but there is basically only one fixed answer."

"Comrade Brigade Commander is on the front line, that's it."

Having been promoted to the position of brigade commander of such a large-scale unit, it stands to reason that Malashenko no longer needs to lead the team to charge and crush the enemy, but the reality that is happening all the time is obviously not the case.

From the beginning, he just fought for his life all the way to the present. Whether it is the state of mind or even the whole person's thinking consciousness, Malashenko has undergone tremendous changes in a subtle way. He is no longer the simple self at the beginning.

Malashenko, who inexplicably got a body with a soul from another world, does not have much "motherland" feelings for the regime and country on this land, but Malashenko does have too many personal grievances to be resolved with those Germans who came here specially to kill and burn.

Because those Germans came here specially to kill, burn, smash and loot.

Malashenko, who has lived a new life and walked again in a strange and strange world in another way, has lost too many things he cherishes so far, and some people have things.

Malashenko, who came from the future, did not intend to be cowardly or retreat. To deal with this group of scum who did heinous things and claimed to be noble and noble, let them taste the bitter fruit wine they brewed themselves is the only solution.

And you must sit on the smoking ruins of Berlin and experience it in the labor camps in Siberia to reflect deeply and confess your sins.

Malashenko never boasts about how noble he is. He only demands himself by the standards and common sense of ordinary people, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and blood splashing three feet.

You killed my brother, I will make your entire family of men extinct! Don't even think about escaping the disaster by laying down your weapons. Think about how to avoid becoming potato fertilizer buried in the ground first. It's your bad luck to meet me.

It's not a good thing to be driven by a strong sense of revenge, but Malashenko, who lives in such a helpless era, is more willing to numb himself in this way so that he can continue to move forward and go all the way.

People must have a goal in life. People without goals live like zombies and are lifeless.

And Malashenko's ultimate goal is to one day sit on the turret of his car in the ruins of Berlin, light a cigarette, blow a thick smoke ring into the sky above his head, and say a sentence in the most manly way.

"We won! All my good brothers who have fought side by side with me! Look, this is the victory I promised you! Listen, this is the song of our victory!"

The first tank battalion, led by the battalion commander Kurbalov, has entered the attack position and made final preparations. The soldiers of the Varosha Infantry Battalion, who arrived with the tanks, finally cleaned their guns and loaded them with bullets and bolts.

The 9th Guards Airborne Division, who have been eager to continue to kill the Germans, has also taken their positions. They will assist the heavy tanks with the Varosha Infantry Battalion and advance forward. After the gap in the position is opened, they will become the first wave of pioneers to fight the enemy with bayonets.

"It's time, let's start"

Malachenko, who stood half of his body outside the turret, glanced at his watch and whispered. The sound of the old locomotive whistle breaking through the air from the distant artillery position behind him immediately came into his ears along with the rumbling sound of heavy artillery.

Division Commander Suvorov mobilized the last remaining artillery forces. The Soviet field artillery that had survived the German air raid yesterday had already suffered heavy losses. At present, only a dozen 122mm and 152mm guns were still able to launch artillery attacks.

This level of artillery firepower was obviously too shabby to be used in such an important breakthrough direction, but it was better than nothing. Malashenko, who had long been accustomed to fighting the Germans in adversity, did not mind getting some help, no matter how much.

The whistling shells pierced the sky above, and the German frontline positions visible through the telescope continued to explode, bursting into groups of hot fireballs, releasing the most primitive and powerful destructive power of the god of war, destroying everything within the surrounding killing radius.

When the artillery preparation that lasted only 20 minutes came to an end, Malashenko put down his binoculars and looked back behind him. The commanders of the entire battalion and the soldiers who were clinging outside the tanks were all looking at him. He raised the transmitter in his hand and moved it to his mouth, and once again gave orders in the same firm tone as always.

"Crush those fascist lunatics into the soil and turn them into farm fertilizer! Stalin's First Guard Heavy Tank Brigade, attack the enemy! Ura!!!"

The German army, who woke up early in the panic of the war, had just been bombed. They ran out of the anti-artillery hole bunker, and before they could stand firm, they felt the terrible vibration clearly coming from the air.

"Russian heavy tanks! Front! They are rushing over!!!"