Chapter 239 The Aroma Is Fragrant

In the previous armored encounter, the First Independent Heavy Tank Breakthrough Battalion led by Malashenko, which adopted the tactic of confronting the Germans head-on, suffered heavy losses.

But thanks to the Finnish-made Suomi submachine guns captured from the logistics and supply units of the SS Imperial Division, the Soviet tank soldiers who abandoned their vehicles relied on the wreckage to press down on the German armored soldiers who also abandoned their vehicles. Unexpectedly, they suffered few casualties.

"More than a year ago, I was almost swept into a hornet's nest by this rubbish in the ice and snow in Finland. Who would have thought that now I can save my life from those Germans with this thing. I really don't know whether I should say thank you or something else to this thing."

Holding the cigarette that was about to burn out in his hand and puffing out clouds, a Red Army tank commander who was sitting in the truck compartment of the maintenance company patted the Suomi submachine gun in his arms and complained about this dramatic and helpless reality.

"No matter what happened in the past, at least these treasures are our companions now. Perhaps this can be regarded as a kind of abandonment of darkness and joining the light to join communism."

Although everyone sitting in the truck compartment chatting had almost different opinions, there was no doubt that the excellent performance of the Suomi submachine gun had won the favor of all the Red Army tank soldiers who had saved their lives from the battlefield.

He raised his hand to flick away the cigarette butt that was about to burn his fingers and was about to speak, but a noisy shouting suddenly sounded outside the truck compartment at this moment.

"Oh, what are you shouting outside? Koshkin, can't you even distinguish the specific model of the German tank by the sound of the gun? Now it's your turn to play a role."

Another Red Army tank commander called Koshkin turned a deaf ear to the nonsense of his comrades around him and immediately put down the Suomi submachine gun he was carefully maintaining and listened carefully.

"The voice came from the front of the column, and it seemed like they were shouting that there were new tanks to be taken, and those who couldn't get them could only serve as infantrymen?"

The silent carriage seemed to be suspended, and you could hear a pin drop. After a moment of stunned silence, the Red Army tank soldiers ran out as if they were bitten by a wolf.

The Soviet tanks on the battlefield would be targeted by the German anti-tank guns and tanks on the ground, and the Stukas in the sky would often come over to dive bomb and join in.

But even so, staying in a tank protected by strong armor and powerful guns still has a much higher survival rate than being an ordinary infantryman. It goes without saying which is stronger between flesh and blood and cold armor. The basic principle that no one wants to die if they can live drives these Red Army tank soldiers who have experienced life and death to run forward all the way.

About ten minutes later, when Malashenko, who was commanding his tank crews to receive the brand new tanks, was about to order them to leave, Engineer Ivankov, who had left for a while, came back again.

"Lieutenant Colonel Malashenko, it's lunch time. If you and your troops need it, you can stay and eat something before leaving. This should not delay the mobility of your tank troops."

After hearing Engineer Ivankov's suggestion, he immediately raised his hand, rolled up his sleeves, and checked the time on the mechanical watch on his wrist. It was not easy for the infantrymen with a lot of belongings to gather and prepare for departure. There was still nearly an hour before the scheduled departure time of the support troops, so Malashenko nodded.

"Well, thank you for your invitation, Comrade Ivankov. To be honest, I haven't eaten anything since I opened my eyes in the morning. I'm so hungry."

Since arriving in Leningrad, we have been eating the military rations brought from Yelnya. The hard black bread and various canned foods that can be preserved for a long time are almost the entire menu of the First Independent Heavy Tank Breakthrough Battalion. The tank soldiers who are either supporting friendly forces in battle or on the road to support the non-stop have no time to make fire and cook. It's good enough to eat something and drink a few sips of water in the tank to barely fill their stomachs.

I have never eaten a hot meal in Leningrad, so I can't help but be curious. What kind of food can I eat in this city that has been besieged by the German army on three sides on land and is almost starving to death?

Malashenko's curiosity and doubts did not last long. About five minutes later, a typical Russian lady who pushed a hand-held dining cart came over with steam, and enthusiastically greeted the Red Army boys who were staring at the dining cart with green eyes.

"Hey, boys! Today's food is specially prepared for you by the order of Engineer Ivankov. There is your favorite meat. Come and try it."

Malashenko, who was also hungry, stepped forward and was the first to get close to the uncovered dining cart and look into the steaming barrel. He saw a pot of stewed potatoes and meat with tempting colors and an appetizing aroma, which teased the stomachs of everyone present.

"Thank you, Comrade Lenin! I don't remember how long it has been since I last had meat and potatoes!"

"Oh, I can't stand it! It smells so good, give me one portion! Auntie! Just looking at it is torture for me!"

"Don't push me! I was here first! Did the instructors at the tank school only teach you how to cut in line?"

A large bucket of meat and potatoes with an alluring aroma was eaten up in just two minutes amid shouting and noise.

The Red Army tank soldiers, whose mouths had long faded away, even scooped up the potatoes and meat and didn't even let go of the soup base. They directly picked up the kettles hanging on their waists and filled up the thick broth on the spot. After finding a place to sit down, I held black bread in one hand and dipped the broth in the other, and stuffed it into my mouth crazily. I was so busy that I didn't even bother to raise my head.

He sat down on a solid steel ingot with a heavy lunch box in his hand and began to taste the delicious food. Malashenko, who was so hungry that his chest was pressed against his back, picked up the spoon and directly put the lunch box to his lips and ate without caring. Lavrinenko on the side also held a lunch box and rubbed the corner of the steel ingot and sat next to him.

"Eat slowly. The front page of Pravda may publish the news tomorrow that the Red Army's number one tank hero choked to death on potato stew. The Germans will laugh so hard that they don't even have the strength to load the shells."

Although he had already developed some resistance to Lavrinenko's talkative words, Malashenko, who heard this unexpectedly, still managed to spit out the contents of his mouth.

"Bah, cough, cough, just eat your food honestly and no one will treat you as a mute!"