Chapter 1451: Too Much! Really Too Much!

Since it's a tea party, we have to drink something.

The Red Army tanks didn't have a tea maker, but there were two bottles of vodka in the storage box, and half a bottle of French brandy that was not finished last time after it was opened and the bottle cork was put back, of course, it was also seized from the Germans.

"Ah, how about drinking during wartime? I think it's quite appropriate now."

Iushkin, who couldn't keep his mouth shut, saw the half bottle of wine sticking out of the storage box and took the lead in proposing. Malashenko, who had his hands on both sides of his seat, smiled at each other. Then he took out the bottle of French brandy that he hadn't finished last time without thinking, and raised his hand to pull out the cork.

"When the crew gathers together, keep your mouth shut. Don't let the political commissar know! Otherwise, the whole crew will have to write a self-criticism, including me. Do you understand?"

The wartime alcohol ban jointly drafted by Malashenko and Political Commissar Petrov is still in effect.

If Malashenko took the lead and invited the brothers to drink on the battlefield, the political commissar would know about it. Then Comrade Ma would definitely not be able to escape the one-stop process of writing a self-criticism, holding a division-wide meeting, and reading it in public. If things go wrong, he might even be punished by sweeping toilets a few times and carrying two buckets of manure. The political commissar would never give in on such a matter of principle.

So, it's no wonder that Malashenko had to be so careful when he wanted to take a few sips secretly.

"Ha, I understand, I understand. I won't let the political commissar know. Don't worry."

Obviously, Ivushkin, who was already impatient for the bottle, didn't take his words to heart. He now wanted to quickly put the thing in Malashenko's hand into his own mouth first.

"Hiss---huh--good, it has the flavor of surrender, and it's third-hand"

The French may have performed poorly on the battlefield of World War II. Their rifles are all brand new, with 100% original rifling and no signs of wear, but the taste of this French cognac is still really worth a thumbs up.

It's like seeing Russian aunts with arms thicker than boys' thighs, and suddenly meeting a charming French girl.

Drinking is like life, you always have to change your taste, right? What's the matter with drinking a kind of wine to death?

After two sips of cognac, Malashenko felt that his mental state was much better. He shook his head and handed the bottle to Iushkin, who had been waiting for it.

"Give it to me quickly, I'm dying of greed."

Mumble——

Mumble——

"Hey, hey, how much more do you want to drink? Leave some! There are still people who haven't drunk yet!"

Malachenko, who hadn't drunk for a long time, was just taking a small sip just now. When the bottle reached Iushkin's mouth, he immediately turned into a big gulp of drinking.

Seeing that the remaining amount in the bottle was almost empty, Malachenko hurriedly stopped it, interrupted Iushkin who was blowing at the bottle, and took the bottle back in his hand.

"You kid, you drank it all in one breath and only have this much left! Do you want to be beaten!?"

Malachenko was still a step late in the end. The bottle he snatched was almost empty now, and at most there was only enough for two small sips.

"Hickey, you can't blame me for that. I haven't had a drop of alcohol since we started the assembly. I can't hold it back any longer."

""

After hearing Iushkin's answer, Malashenko was speechless. In fact, Malashenko still couldn't understand why the Soviets or later generations of Russia were so dependent on alcohol.

Iushkin was like this, and his best friend in later generations, Lavrinenko's great-grandson Rosov, was still like this. It has not changed over the decades and generations. Damn it, drinking this stuff is just like drinking Dali. If you don't drink it for a day, you will feel uncomfortable all over.

If you let him choose between a girl and vodka, Malashenko even suspects that Iushkin, this stinky boy, will most likely just take vodka and leave, as long as you give him enough alcohol.

"Well, forget it, drink if you want. You may not have the next meal after drinking this one. Drink while you have wine today. No, you can't get drunk. You should drink while you have wine today."

Mutualling in his heart, Malashenko handed the bottle to Artyom on the other side. Artyom, who was born as a local shipyard worker in Odessa, is naturally a good man who can drink. It's just that Artyom can control this desire and is not as violent as the young and energetic Iushkin.

Artyom, who took the bottle from Malashenko, had no time to put it to his mouth to drink, and a voice came from under the turret basket and the front of the vehicle body.

"Hey, leave some for me, I haven't drunk yet!"

""

There was silence in the turret at first, no echo, as if it was thinking.

"You are driving under the influence of alcohol, no, Seryosha."

It was our big-mouthed comrade Iushkin who played the game of answering, but the old friend who wanted to drink was not willing to be outdone.

"You are still talking after drinking, do you have the right to criticize me?"

""

Iushkin, who was originally very talkative, was speechless on the spot. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't utter a word for a long time. If he thought about it carefully, it seemed that what Seryosha said was indeed correct.

"Okay, I'm done drinking, give it to Seryosha."

Before Iushkin's brain circuit switched back, Artyom, who took a sip himself and left an equal amount in the bottle, had already handed the bottle to Iushkin.

Looking at the wine bottle in front of him, turning his head and looking at Malashenko aside, Iushkin seemed to be looking for answers from Comrade Commander.

"What I just said was one mouthful for each person. Follow the order, Comrade Iushkin."

""

Iushkin, who was speechless, naturally had no choice but to do as he was told. He then reached out to take the bottle, bent down and handed it to Seryosha's head, who was driving.

"Here, take it."

"Um"

Before Iushkin could retract his seat in the turret basket, an unexpected and angry curse came from the front of the car.

"Iushkin, you bastard! Are you leaving this little for me? I'm going to kick your ass!"

Iushkin, whose expression was almost frozen, had a dark expression on his face as he cursed loudly. Seryosha's voice was really quite loud, enough for everyone in the car to hear clearly through the noise of the tank cap and engine.

"What does it have to do with me? Artyom drank that drink just now!"

Iushkin subconsciously tried to quibble, but Seryosha became even more angry.

"Don't lie to me! It's obvious that you drank the most. I heard everything Comrade Commander scolded you. Don't think that my ears are not good!"

""

In the end, the embarrassed Iushkin was unable to reply even a single sentence. Of course, he was the only one who was embarrassed to the end. He twisted his head and turned to one side, feeling depressed, and whispered at a decibel that only he could hear.

"It's just half a bottle of wine, and you blame me for it. It's too much! It's really too much!"