Chapter 2067 Half a Loaf of Bread

"I say, are the goods we prepared enough? There are much more Polish ghosts than expected, I'm afraid there won't be enough to distribute.

The scene in front of him not only scared Malashenko, but also scared Iushkin who was surprised.

The Poles who lined up to receive supplies were old and young, big and small, from old men in their seventies and eighties to children of five or six years old.

Under the supervision of the Red Army soldiers responsible for maintaining order, these Poles were relatively honest.

You can't expect such a group of hungry people to understand discipline and follow the rules. But as long as the things in your hands are powerful enough and can produce a terrifying deterrent effect, these people will choose to listen to you even for their own lives, such as the current situation.

"If it's not enough, transfer another batch over, anyway, we have plenty of logistics. ”

Holding a cigarette in his mouth, squatting in a corner of the square, Malashenko looked more like a gangster than a major general. He was full of scoundrels and chivalry without speaking. The way he looked at the group of Poles was like a gangster looking at a group of leeks living in his territory.

“We defeated the most elite German Wehrmacht division and wiped them all out at once. The food and supplies seized are enough for all the Poles you see in this place to eat for a month. How many people can fit in such a small square? Even if it is full, it can’t be compared with a large Wehrmacht division. Today, we will give it out freely. We will keep these things that taste like chewing horse manure and they will go bad if we keep them for ourselves.

Indeed, as Malashenko said, in the leader division, which is known as the top elite of the Soviet Army in terms of combat effectiveness, the level of eating has long been different from the past, and there has been a revolutionary change.

If you can eat fresh food, you will never eat canned food. If you can eat fresh meat to your heart’s content, you will not eat animal organs.

I've long been tired of the canned Sempam luncheon meat donated by the Americans. I can't even remember when I last ate it. The few remaining stocks are now piled up in the division's logistics and munitions department, gathering dust all day long.

So at this point, if you tell the leader of the division about the canned German food, they will really look down on it and simply disdain it. No one wants to eat it even if it's captured. Wouldn't it be delicious to have a hot potato stew with beef instead of eating this stuff? Not to mention that the taste of the broken canned food made by the Germans is getting worse and worse, and it's already comparable to "Mussolini's ass".

I can't digest it all, but it's piled up like a mountain. It seems a bit too extravagant and wasteful to throw it away for nothing. What should I do?

Well, recycle it and give it to the Polish ghosts to solve the problem. It's just right for the Poles to be "garbage crushers" for a while, and they will be grateful to you after they are done.

The captured materials neatly stacked in boxes on the small square include not only canned food and food, but also a large amount of non-staple food and snacks distributed by the Germans.

There are all kinds of things like cigarettes, chocolate, sugar, coffee, etc., which are real and absolute hard currency in the war years. In many cases, they are even more valuable than food and can be exchanged for more things by bartering. However, these things are not available to everyone in Poland.

"Well, Podkaczynski, you have three children and a weak sister? A total of six people in your family?"

A regimental political commissar who speaks fluent Polish sits behind the table, and two combat engineers holding AKs stand on his left and right to guard him. He looks like he is doing things impartially. The middle-aged Polish man who was asked such questions hurriedly nodded and then spoke in a panic.

"Yes, sir. We have been out of food for three days. The children are crying all day long because of hunger. Those damn Nazi dogs don't give us food, nor do they allow us to go out to the streets to find food. Anyone who dares to go out to the streets will be shot to death by them, or they will be mauled to death by dogs and then eaten by dogs."

"Please, please, please, the great Red Army, please, please, the great leader Stalin, save our family. We really can't starve anymore, please have pity on us and give us some food."

There are all kinds of people in war, some are fierce, some are cunning, some are cruel, but civilians are indeed the most miserable people no matter when, where and under what circumstances. All that is left for these people is the endless pain and suffering in the war, and they don't even have the ability to resist, and can only go with the flow, such as the middle-aged Polish man in front of him who is disheveled and pale.

"Well, it's basically the same as what's said here. It seems that you are quite honest, which is good."

The political commissar, who was about the same age as the man, nodded, put down the list in his hand, picked up the pen in his hand and quickly signed his name on it, and then picked up the big seal beside him and stamped it with a big and red stamp, which was very conspicuous.

"Okay, take this and go to the material receiving office over there to get what you need. Remember, take as much as you get, and then leave, understand?"

The political commissar seemed to be easy to talk to. At least he was willing to remind a Polish stranger of the rules, which was already very rare.

The pale, thin and disheveled Polish man saw the list on the table in front of him, and immediately held it in his palm and looked at it carefully as if he had picked up the most valuable treasure in the world. After just a few seconds, he burst into tears of gratitude.

"Thank you, thank you! Thank you, great leader Comrade Stalin! Our family will never forget this day!"

The political commissar behind the table just smiled, obviously not taking it to heart, and then waved his hand to signal that the next person could come up and leave quickly.

The Polish man knew that it was not suitable to stay here for a long time, so he immediately wanted to leave.

But he didn't expect that his 8-year-old daughter who had been following him stopped and was unwilling to leave. The Polish man thought that his obedient daughter would follow him as usual. It was not until he walked out several steps that he realized that his daughter was still there. After a little shock, he hurried forward to drag his daughter away.

"What are you doing? Let's go."

""

The little girl didn't say anything, but just looked up at the table in front of her, which was taller than her, and looked at an item on the table with her eyes in a trance. The reason why she couldn't leave was obviously that thing.

The political commissar sitting behind the desk also noticed this situation, and followed the little girl's gaze to see what he had just casually placed on the desk: it was half a piece of bread that he had not finished eating before lunch, and he ate it while walking, and brought it to the office and still hadn't finished it. It still had the tenderness and wheat aroma that was just out of the oven, which was exclusive to the leader division.

In this day and age, it is an absolute top-notch product among breads, a B2 stealth strategic bomber among breads.

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