Chapter 1891 Golden Light

Malachenko barely remembered the man in front of him who was crying and holding his thigh with a bandage on his head. He was Kirill's deputy, the deputy of the first tank company.

Kirill had mentioned this to him before, and his evaluation of this man was quite good.

If it were in normal times, Malachenko would definitely have a good attitude towards the deputy in front of him, at least talking and laughing was a must.

But now, Malachenko, who was completely in a "dumbfounded" state, really couldn't get up the interest, and had no time to talk to this guy about whether you regret it or who will die for whom. Even if the deputy company commander hugged Malachenko's thigh and shook it hard, the division commander still sat on the ground like a soulless puppet, indifferent.

Maybe his tears were dry, his voice was hoarse, or he really realized that it was useless to do so.

In short, the crying and shouting of the deputy company commander did not last too long. Malashenko, who was sitting on the ground, remained dumbfounded for a long time. Finally, he stood up on his own initiative without anyone speaking.

"Where are you going?"

""

The commissar who was worried about Malashenko asked behind him. The division commander, who was in a state of despair, only recovered his ability to think and his emotions were still at the bottom. Even the commissar's question was just a dull and casual answer.

"I don't know, you can go anywhere, whatever"

""

I wanted to cheer Malashenko up and remind him of his identity as a division commander and what he should do and his obligations.

But the commissar, who hesitated when the words came to his lips, still couldn't say them out. When was a young man like Malashenko? Wasn't he in the same state when he encountered similar things? Why do you ask a young man to be calm and indifferent to the wind and waves of a fifty-year-old man? This is not realistic.

The ability to deal with people requires a long period of accumulation and grows up in repeated setbacks and injuries.

Even though Malashenko is so special and so powerful, he is just a young man after all. How can a man in his twenties not have any emotional fluctuations and loss of soul when encountering such a tragedy?

The political commissar, who understood this, simply swallowed his words, called the people around him to whisper a few words, and then followed Malashenko's pace after explaining some necessary things. But he did not come to Malashenko's side and walk side by side with him, but just hung behind Malashenko at a short distance, and walked all the way back to the division headquarters.

"There are some things I know I shouldn't say, but you should cheer up as soon as possible. This is necessary. You know why."

""

Malashenko understood what the political commissar meant. Of course, he understood that this was what he had to do, but it did take some time.

Without saying a word, Malashenko reached for the cigarette box on the table and took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He finally spoke quietly after taking out a lighter to light a cigarette.

"Anything else? Just this harmonica?"

""

Political Commissar Petrov was the one who was speechless. The only thing left was to take something out of his pocket and speak slowly.

"This is Kirill's suicide note. He must have written it a long time ago and always carried it with him. There are things he wants to say to you."

Looking at the envelope handed over by the political commissar, the blood stains on it still reveal the scarlet of life. Malashenko, holding a cigarette between his fingertips, did not hesitate to reach out and take it. The letter paper that had been opened, taken out and put back was immediately unfolded in front of him.

"Uncle, and comrade car commander, when you see this, I think I have probably left this world that I love so much and am reluctant to leave."

"How should I put it? It's not surprising to have such a result, right? Soldiers fell on the battlefield to defend the motherland. Too many comrades have reached the end with such a fate, but it is not the end of our great ideals and the career we pursue all our lives."

"Just like you said, comrade car commander, you have worked hard and briefly completed your journey on the road of revolutionary struggle in your life, leaving the flag in your hand to the comrades who are still moving forward behind you, and paving the way for them with your body. This is really amazing! Fighting for the greatest revolutionary cause of mankind for a lifetime, isn't it?"

"So, I am not at all sad that I will eventually end up like this. I am sad and upset at this point, and it is because of this awareness that I can face and accept it calmly. A person's life will come to an end no matter what. This is my end, and I am proud of it. When spring comes and the sun shines, cranes fly under the sky, and children reading aloud at their quiet desks will remember that it is me and countless comrades who have fought for such a tomorrow for them. "

"I am very satisfied with this, uncle, and comrade driver! I believe that I will not have any regrets at the last moment of my life, let alone remorse and unwillingness, because I have dedicated my life and the most precious life to such an incomparable great cause. "

Click--

When the sound of tears dripping on the letter paper came, Malashenko, whose cheeks were already covered with tears, cried silently.

He wanted to scream and wail, but he was infected by the true emotions between the lines, and his chest felt uncomfortable. This feeling of suffocation really made Malashenko feel an indescribable tearing pain.

After reading one piece of letter, there was the last one.

With tears blurring his eyes, Malashenko trembled as he turned the page, biting his lips tightly to prevent himself from crying out. He was so strong that his lips were only a little bit away from breaking and bleeding.

"I miss my mother so much, I really miss her so much."

"She has been my only friend since I can remember. Dad is a hero, but I have never seen him. I have only seen his appearance in photos. He looks like my uncle, comrade, the driver. They are just like two peas in a pod. Their smiles are almost exactly the same! Mom also said that I look like Dad."

"It was a sunny afternoon. Mom was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. I was only as tall as her waist at that time. I remember it very clearly. I held Mom's apron with my little hands. Mom was mixing the dough in the bowl to bake the fragrant bread. What I cared about was not how fragrant the bread was, but the sunshine and the kitchen that afternoon. It was so warm and warm. It was the most unforgettable moment in my life."