Chapter 259: Position

After repelling this wave of German attacks, Malashenko didn't have much time to sit back and rest. Compared with physical fatigue, whether his life could be saved was what Malashenko was really concerned about right now.

"Who is the commander on your position? I want to see him immediately."

Malashenko, whose soles had just landed, didn't think much and immediately asked the Red Army second lieutenant nearest to him who was taking care of the wounded.

The Red Army second lieutenant raised his head following the direction of the sound, his face covered in blood and exhaustion, and his pair of barely discernible blue eyes looked straight at him like two gems set in coal. Malashenko.

"Which commander are you asking about?"

Malashenko, who had never expected that the second lieutenant in front of him would answer like this, was stunned for a moment after hearing this. After thinking about it, he felt that his question might have been a bit abrupt. After thinking for a moment, Malashenko randomly spoke again.

"Supreme Commander, Comrade Second Lieutenant, I'm looking for the supreme commander of your position."

The Red Army second lieutenant, who finally understood the meaning of Malashenko's words, slowly thought about it. After several seconds, he spoke to Malashenko who was waiting for the answer in front of him.

"This morning, political commissar Shanikov was commanding the battle. At noon, battalion commander Polonov took over the command. Within two hours after the noon start, company commander Vasily was in command. Finally, I The last time I saw Captain Vasily was two hours ago, when he was in the first trench."

Malashenko, who heard a lot of names in just a few seconds, felt that his head was a little dazed. The second lieutenant in front of him said that the speed of changing commanders was more than just a quick glance, which obviously exceeded Malashenko. expectations.

"How could this happen, Comrade Second Lieutenant? Where have the commanders you just mentioned gone? Why were they replaced so quickly?"

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Malashenko, who was just asking the question subconsciously, immediately realized something was wrong.

The battle had reached this level and it was so cruel that it would knock a dog's brains out. There was no need to even think about it. The long list of previous names in the second lieutenant's mouth might have all been killed in the previous battles.

Sure enough, after hearing Malashenko's subconscious question, the Red Army second lieutenant was stunned for a moment, and then his expression became relieved. The second lieutenant blurted out without any hesitation.

"They all died. The Germans invested at least one regiment of troops in front of our position, and they also brought tanks. The battalion commander and political commissar led their people to the front to hold on to the position. If this was not the case, this position would not be possible. It had been lost a long time ago, and so was Captain Vasily, who later took over the command."

Malashenko, who had already guessed that such a result would be the result, simply said nothing more. He took a meteoric step with his legs and turned towards the first one on the position that had been blasted to pieces. The trench walked quickly.

Walking on the edge of the mottled, broken and cratered trenches, the scenes within his sight were filled with extremely miserable scenes in Malashenko's eyes.

The Red Army soldier, who was wrapped up like a mummy with almost only one pair of eyes exposed, held his rifle in his arms and leaned against the mottled and broken earth wall of the infantry trench behind him to relieve pain and fatigue.

Another Red Army soldier, whose arm was broken, still insisted on not leaving the line of fire. The blood was stained through the gauze of his left arm, and only a small piece of flesh and skin was left hanging there with the bones. He was as strong as steel and had an unyielding will. But he still forced his incomplete body to hold the rifle in his right hand tightly.

"It seems that there is no exaggeration in what Zhukov said. It can cripple an entire army group's organized troops without sending reserve troops to support it. It seems that the 42nd Army is not far away from being completely defeated. ”

While constantly thinking about the battle situation in his mind, he looked at every military rank within his sight. He didn't even see a second lieutenant along the way, but was full of wounded soldiers and corpses. He couldn't help but doubt in his heart. Is the company commander named Vasily still alive?

"Please don't die. I just want to find a commander to discuss the next defense."

With such an idea in mind, Malashenko had not gone very far when he was noticed by the scene of seven or eight Red Army soldiers gathered outside the center point of a circle.

"That is how the matter?"

Noticing that something was wrong in the situation in front of him, Malashenko quickened his pace and stepped forward. He stretched out his right hand to push aside several Red Army soldiers gathered in front of him, and then squeezed his body forward.

"Hey, God, is this guy really not afraid of pain?"

As the saying goes, you won’t know until you look at it, and you will be shocked at first sight. After squeezing into the front of the crowd, Malashenko saw a Red Army second lieutenant half-sitting on the ground leaning against the trench behind him undergoing surgery.

A Red Army medic carrying a stained medical satchel was holding a hemostat and forceps and was fiddling with the bleeding bloody wound, trying to forcefully remove something from the wound on his right arm.

It is not difficult to tell from the frowning and clenched expression of the Red Army second lieutenant that he was sweating profusely. This was a front-line field operation without anesthetic injection.

"Please be patient, Comrade Company Commander, I have already pinched the bullet, take it out immediately!"

Second Lieutenant Vasily, with his teeth clenched, was tortured by the intense pain and could only nod his head to indicate that he could not speak. The medic holding the hemostat in his left hand and the large tweezers in his right hand did not hesitate to pull out with his right arm, and a yellow-orange 9mm submachine gun bullet was forcibly pulled out of the wound on his right arm.

Puff --

Zizz --

The moment the 9mm bullet that was originally stuck in the arm muscle was forcibly pulled out, a lot of blood was splashed. The broken blood vessels blocked by the bullet were instantly squeezed out of the wound due to the tense muscles, and the speed at which ordinary people could not react and dodge was splashed on the face of the medic who was still holding the tweezers and hemostat.

The medic, who had long been accustomed to this situation, did not feel any nausea or discomfort. Instead, he put the hemostat and tweezers directly back into his bag and then took out a roll of medical gauze. He blocked the torn gauze with the blood column like a small fountain and began to bandage it forcibly.

"The bullet was removed in a timely manner, but we don't have any anti-infection drugs, Comrade Company Commander. If your wound becomes infected, it will be fatal."