Chapter 1941 "This Is Well Deserved"

Seeing Zhukov again made Malashenko feel very close. Apart from Vatutin, Comrade Zhu had the best relationship with Malashenko and the deepest personal friendship with him. Of course, he was the one who was most grateful to him.

It is true that his initial rise began with Rokossovsky's promotion, but if you really want to say that he was put on the right track and began to climb up, it was really after Zhukov began to use him.

So if you want to say who he is most grateful to, Malashenko can say without exaggeration that this person must be Comrade Zhu.

If there was no Zhukov, he would not be here today.

No matter what reason Zhukov gave him the opportunity and was willing to promote him, for today's results, these initial causes are no longer important. He was able to achieve today's achievements because of this, which is the most important thing.

Seeing Zhukov about to walk in front of him, Malashenko, who was already familiar with everything, certainly knew what to do at this moment.

After taking two steps forward, he stood at attention. Although they were old acquaintances, Malashenko, who could not be negligent and unruly in public, saluted Zhu in a standard military salute.

"Comrade Marshal, I am the commander of the 1st Stalin Guards Tank Division, a subordinate of the 3rd Belarusian Front, Major General Malashenko, reporting to you. I wish you good health!"

After a set of standard procedures, Zhukov, who had not seen Malashenko for a long time, looked up and down at the familiar young man in front of him who he had promoted and cultivated, and nodded with a smile and satisfaction without commenting. Then he gave a standard return salute and smiled.

"Remember how long we haven't seen each other?"

Malashenko smiled. Such a question was not unexpected.

"I can't remember, comrade Marshal, but it must have been a long time."

Looking at the pair of superiors and subordinates in front of him, who were old acquaintances, Jack felt that the man called Marshal by Malashenko looked familiar, but he couldn't remember who this man was or what his name was. He had no choice but to ask Major General Charleson next to him.

"Who is this marshal? I think Malashenko respects him very much. I have never seen him like this."

When he first heard Jack's question, he was a little surprised. Major General Charleson thought for a moment that there was something wrong with his ears and he heard some keywords wrong. It was not until he turned his head and saw Jack's expression of doubt that he was sure of something.

"Hey, Jack! Did you do enough homework before coming to the Soviet Union? Even if you didn't read the prepared materials, don't you usually watch the news? At least you should read the newspaper to understand global current affairs?"

""

Looking at Jack's embarrassed expression, he didn't know what to say, and Major General Charleson, who was really helpless, flipped through the white cigarette and could only choose to continue speaking.

"That man is Zhukov, the god of war of the Soviet Red Army, Stalin's firefighter, and the most capable and powerful marshal of the entire Soviet Red Army. The materials and intelligence we have collected show that he is the creator of Malashenko. He promoted Malashenko from a small lieutenant to his current position. Now you understand why Malashenko respects him so much?"

"Marshal Zhukov? Oh, my God, of course I know him! This name is so familiar, I often see it in the newspaper. The Russians themselves say that wherever he goes, victory will come, and he is the symbol of the Red Army's victory."

Seeing that Jack was not completely stupid, but just a little forgetful, Major General Charleson continued with a calm tone.

"Fortunately you asked early. If you still don't recognize him when he walks up to you, that would be a big problem."

""

Just as Charleson and Jack were chatting in a low voice, Malashenko, who had a brief chat with Zhukov, came back again, and brought the famous Soviet Marshal with him.

"Comrade Marshal, let me introduce you. This is the leader of the Allied Officers Corps, Major General Charleson of the British Army, and this is Colonel Jack Morrison of the US Army."

After introducing the characters to Zhukov in Russian, Malashenko turned around and spoke to Charleson and Jack in English.

"I don't think I need to introduce the Marshal's name. I think you two already know it."

The more Malashenko said this, the more embarrassed Jack felt. He couldn't say anything meaningful for a while, so Major General Charleson, the leader of the Allied Officers Corps, could only speak.

"It's nice to meet you, Marshal. Your great name and superb command of large troops are well-known in Europe. The editors in our country affectionately call you the "Red Army God of War" and the "Nazi Nemesis." "

Zhukov, who was very happy at least on the surface, naturally did not hit the smiling person. He must have the basic skills of carrying a sedan chair.

"Thank you for your praise, General Charleson. In addition, your Russian is quite good."

Charleson smiled faintly after hearing this, and then shook his head helplessly and laughed at himself.

"I learned everything by myself. I eagerly obtained your Soviet Red Army's understanding of armored tactics and practical application methods and battle examples from any valuable materials I could collect. I even learned Russian because of this, but some people ignored what I summarized and my suggestions to learn from you."

"Although I am very reluctant, I must admit it. This trip to the Soviet Union has further strengthened my views and analysis. At least in the current global scope, your Soviet Red Army's concepts and achievements in the field of armored warfare, as well as all the tactics and campaign theories that match it, are well-deserved."

Looking at Major General Charleson's thumbs up without hesitation, Malashenko and Zhukov, who smiled at each other, were not surprised, because this was indeed the truth.

As for the evidence, you can tell by just looking at the actual combat examples.

The Germans who were beaten to a pulp by the leader's division and were scared to death by the name of the Iron Butcher, were rejuvenated on the Western Front, pinning the British and American ground forces to the ground and beating them up, suffering from various zoo phobias. If they had not had absolute air superiority, they could have relied on their air strike firepower advantage to stabilize the situation, and they might have been driven into the sea by the Germans.

Do I need to say more about who is awesome and who is lame? Even a six-year-old child can tell the difference.