Chapter 2711: Dilapidated Street

The actual process of visiting the wounded is not that complicated.

Because of the special front-line and rear-line tiered diagnosis and treatment system of the Leader Division, most of the slightly injured with moderate to mild conditions are not in the field hospital in the city at this moment, but are recuperating in the rear hospital in the town outside the city.

So most of the people that Malashenko can actually visit in the front-line field hospital in the city are seriously injured soldiers who are missing arms and legs, unable to move, or with bandages wrapped around their heads and gauze wrapped around their bodies.

The seriously injured themselves cannot have too much interaction and communication. Talking too much will only affect the recovery of the injury. Malashenko only greeted and cared about them one by one and then quickly left the ward.

In the territory of the Leader Division, Malashenko, who is almost the protagonist wherever he goes, also knows that he is not suitable to stay in the ward for too long. When the soldiers are excited, they will inevitably talk to him a few more words. If this chatterbox is really opened, it will never end.

Jill, who had been following Malashenko, was conscientious in his duties. He took all the photos he thought should be taken and the moments that should be recorded. He also took notes on the conversations between the injured soldiers and Malashenko. He didn't finish until he walked out of the ward with Malashenko.

"We, uh, are we going anywhere else now?"

Jill, who had been busy with Malashenko all the way, seemed to be a little reluctant. Even now, she was still curious about the various places in the field hospital, and raised her head from time to time to look around. [】

Seeing that Jill's situation would probably be like this for a while, Malashenko did not seek any changes.

Today, Malashenko has a more Buddhist attitude towards Jill, the little girl. As long as it's not much different, it's okay. Since being with this little girl, all kinds of accidents have always happened one after another. Malashenko now even feels a little exhausted physically and mentally. It's even more tiring than fighting.

"The trip ends here. I have to go back to deal with military affairs."

"Do you want to interview two doctors and nurses, or take a ride with me? Decide for yourself."

Seeing Malashenko saying this with an indifferent attitude, Jill, who was curious but had not thought about staying in the field hospital longer, responded almost without thinking.

"I'd better go back with you. I don't know anyone else here. No one is familiar to me."

I really didn't expect that this little girl would give "shyness" as an excuse.

If it is according to Malashenko's understanding, how could a journalist be shy? Can a shy person do this job? Are you kidding me?

Although he was indeed a little confused, Malashenko didn't think about it any more. There was no need to argue with this little girl about such trivial matters. The words came out without thinking.

"Come on, get in the car, it's time to go."

The small convoy escorting Malashenko slowly moved forward on the outer streets of Berlin, which had been riddled with holes and devastated by the war. Looking out of the car window with the naked eye, all kinds of ruins and dilapidated buildings with huge gaps can be seen everywhere.

There were Red Army soldiers standing guard at intervals on the street to maintain order. From time to time, you could see patrol teams in squads, fully armed and walking on the sidewalks, alert to the surroundings.

At least in the actual control area that had been captured by the leadership division, Malashenko was the highest military and political leader who decided everything within the area. Whether you ate, slept, or fired guns and cannons, strictly speaking, you could have the final say.

This was a military control area where everything was strictly enforced according to wartime regulations. The smell of gunfire and blood in the air was silently proving that it was unsuitable to survive here and that lives were being destroyed.

However, even in such an environment, people who come out to make a living and struggle between death and hope are still moving with difficulty.

The streets are sparsely populated but not empty. In addition to the Red Army soldiers who maintain order and patrol, some people with pale faces, thin bodies, ragged clothes, and local war refugees are not uncommon.

Some of them are rummaging around in the ruins that can be seen everywhere, holding coarse cloth bags in their hands that are as worn as their clothes, or even more worn. Try to find anything useful for survival from the ruins as much as possible, take it back for your own use, and survive.

Jill noticed that some people lined up in a long queue. Under the supervision of the Red Army soldiers on the street, they were orderly taking what was considered to be an appropriate amount of living supplies from the quartermaster who was responsible for distribution next to the military trucks belonging to the leader division.

Jill's eyesight is not bad. At least when he is with Mary, a female man who smokes, drinks, and loves to play with guns, his shooting skills are indeed good when evaluated at the beginner level. In addition to his own high level of understanding and the good teaching of his best friend Mary, it was also related to the excellent vision of her bright eyes.

As the car continued to move forward, Jill finally saw clearly what the German refugees were receiving and looked surprised. Before, he had read many reports on the Western Front written by Mary and thought he was quite knowledgeable, but Jill had never heard of the American troops on the Western Front distributing canned meat to German refugees on such a large scale in an organized manner.

"Oh my god, are those canned meats? Did you allow them to be distributed? Take a look."

"Huh?"

Malachenko, who was sitting not far from Jill, near the other door in the back seat of the car, was already drowsy. Jill suddenly called him and he immediately adjusted the brim of his hat to block the light, raised his head to restore his vision, and looked out the window to see a scene that surprised Jill.

"Oh, those, I gave the order."

Malachenko, who didn't care much about letting Jill breathe in secondhand smoke, felt that he was still a little sleepy. Then, for the purpose of refreshing himself, he took out a cigarette box and a lighter from his pocket, took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth and lit it. When his mouth was full of smoke, he continued to speak.

"Yesterday, when we were cleaning the battlefield, we took two German supply warehouses, one large and one small. They looked like they were military supplies for the Nazis in this area to fight for a long time, but those damn guys can't use them now."

"My soldiers don't think much of these German junk food. In every sense, they are not as good as our leader's three meals a day. I thought it would be a pity to throw it away. It may not taste good, but we can't waste food. It just so happens that the civilians of these Germans in the city have been robbed of their beloved Nazis and have nothing but their pants. They are about to die."

"Anyway, it was made by the Germans themselves. In the end, it was not fed to the Nazis. It is a good use of these unfortunate guys to eat it. I am not the kind of locust who scrapes the ground three feet wherever I go. It's no big deal to give it away. Just treat it as garbage disposal."