Chapter 2783 Bloody Scene

The battle will never stop until the last Nazi soldier in the city lays down his weapon and stops resisting.

Knowing all this, Malashenko knew that it was not time for him to rest well. Malashenko, who had always slept lightly during the war, was awakened by his biological clock at three o'clock in the morning without anyone calling him.

He got up from the bed, lifted the blanket covering him, and put his feet into the two long boots placed beside the bed.

Malashenko, who didn't even take off his clothes when he slept, simply got up. He picked up the coat hanging on the head of the bed and walked straight out. The moment he pushed the door of the combat command room and entered, he saw the political commissar looking at him.

"Damn, are you not sleeping? How come you are earlier than me?"

The political commissar, who looked up at Malashenko and continued to sort out the report, quietly answered Malashenko without raising his head and continued to work.

"I slept for a short while. If I continue to sleep longer, it will be a waste of time. I know how many hours of sleep I need at the minimum, and I have guaranteed enough sleep, don't worry."

""

For a person whose life is about to come to an end, Malashenko seems to have no right to persuade Comrade Political Commissar that "paying more attention to rest is good for health."

This loyal and firm Communist Party member has very little time left, and Malashenko can really understand Comrade Political Commissar's mood at the moment.

Let him waste too much time on sleeping, I am afraid it is a luxury to even expect him to fall asleep.

At this point, we can only respect Comrade Political Commissar's own wishes in the last precious time of his life. Malashenko hopes that this will make Comrade Political Commissar's last journey in this life more meaningful and fulfilling.

"I have sorted out today's combat plan. Wait a minute. I will give it to you after I finish it. If there is no problem, please sign it. I will arrange to send it to the combat troops for execution."

Dinglingling--

"Hello? Frontline Command."

Before the political commissar finished speaking, the phone on the table not far away suddenly rang.

Although the political commissar wanted to continue speaking, the phone that just rang over there always seemed to give people a bad premonition.

Who would call the frontline command at three o'clock in the middle of the night?

Could it be that something happened on the contact line? But there was no sound of alarm or exchange of fire?

The political commissar changed his mind and planned to finish the work at hand first, and then give it to Malashenko for review and signature.

But he never thought that as soon as he lowered his head, the communications staff who had just picked up the phone and talked for a few words turned around and spoke hurriedly.

"Comrade Division Commander, report from the front-line outpost. An enemy attack occurred at the intersection of the main road in Block 1. Enemy saboteurs infiltrated and secretly attacked our guard troops on the contact line. The combat engineer battalion directly under the First Heavy Combined Brigade suffered losses, and the specific casualties are being counted."

""

"What!?"

Malachenko had just gotten up and hadn't even had time to drink a sip of water when a call came from the front-line contact line reporting that a German sneaked in in the middle of the night and touched his butt, and there were substantial casualties.

The key point is that Malachenko didn't hear any sound of fighting in the city, which was very surprising and a little infuriating.

"Which unit encountered the enemy on the contact line? How did they keep sentry guard at night!? How could the German sneak in and kill everyone without farting? It's ridiculous!"

It doesn't matter if you were attacked by someone, but it's a bit unreasonable to be attacked by someone and not even fart.

There was no shot fired, no sound of gunfire, and now this call came. Malashenko was almost certain that the group of Germans who committed the crime were probably pretending to be powerful and then ran away.

This is really embarrassing. How many times has the leader's division encountered the shitty things that let the Germans pretend to be powerful and then run away?

It can't be said that there was no one, but it was really rare, so rare that it can be counted on one's fingers.

So it's nothing more than Malashenko cursing a little now, after all, this matter is really embarrassing.

"It's the first company of the combat engineer battalion of the first brigade, that is, the Alsim company!"

"

"What did you say? Alsim!?"

Malashenko couldn't believe his ears. Alsim, the "Slavic Superman" who was as violent as a war machine, and his equally violent and restless brothers under him, were actually touched on the buttocks by the Germans in the middle of the night? And they didn't react? ? ?

"Is Alsim okay? What's the situation over there? Who's in charge?"

Faced with Malashenko's rapid-fire questions, the communications staff officer who had just hung up the phone seemed embarrassed.

"Not sure, comrade commander, it wasn't said on the phone. The person over there hung up the phone in a hurry and said they were going to the scene to deal with the situation. Do you need to call them again to ask?"

"Forget it, no need."

Malashenko, who had no time to wait for news, seemed very impatient. He waved his hand and dismissed the communications staff officer's proposal. Instead, he grabbed the belt and holster on the table and wrapped it around his waist, and spoke again to the political commissar next to him.

"I'll go to the scene to take a look. I'm worried that Alsim is in trouble. I'll leave this to you for the time being."

After yesterday's battle, the leader division headquarters, which was progressing smoothly, has moved from the town outside the city to a suitable location in the city. It doesn't take too long for Malashenko to set out from the current front-line command post to the contact line.

"Got it, be careful along the way, remember to bring a guard platoon with you."

"Well, that's it, keep in touch."

Malashenko moved very quickly. The convoy on standby in the yard downstairs saw that the division commander needed an emergency car, and immediately summoned the escort team to prepare a little and then set off quickly. It took less than fifteen minutes to send Malashenko to the destination of the contact line.

In the ruined streets of Berlin, where ruins are everywhere and craters can be seen everywhere, it is considered very fast for wheeled vehicles to have such a mobile speed.

What Malashenko didn't expect was that the first sight he saw when he opened the car door and rushed into the building where the incident happened directly stunned him, who claimed to be knowledgeable.

"Was this done by those Nazis?"

"Suka! These bastards are not human!"

"These bastards should be chopped up and fed to the dogs. Even this is not enough to make them feel better!"

The surrounding entourage was either shocked, angry, or both.

Looking at the bodies of the soldiers lying on the ground in a row, and the sharp knives deeply stabbed into the foreheads of each soldier's head.

Malashenko felt that the scene he saw before his eyes did not look like the remains of a battlefield, but more like the sacrifice site of some kind of evil ancient ritual of black magic.