Chapter 3203 Disappearance (Part 2)

"You are here, Comrade Malashenko."

Looking at the thin body lying on the hospital bed in front of him, Malashenko, who could not hide his grief, sat on the edge of the bed, but could not say a word. He just held Commissar Petrov's hand and refused to let go.

"It was obviously a good day for you to get married, but in the end, you ended up like this by an old guy like me."

"Thinking about it now, maybe I shouldn't have come in the first place and should have stayed in the Far East. However, I really can't help but want to see you get married with my own eyes. Otherwise, I always feel empty in my heart, as if something is missing. ”

The calm and slightly weak words echoed in the ward. Looking up at the unfamiliar ceiling, which was probably the last place he could see in his life, Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, who was lying on the hospital bed and turned his head slightly, smiled.

"Look at you, why are you crying? We already knew that this day would come sooner or later, didn't we? You said before that you wouldn't let Kulbalov cry, saying that he was the second commander of the leading army and a hero of the Soviet Union. So why not you? Moreover, you are also the first army commander and a three-time Hero of the Soviet Union.”

"Wipe your tears and cheer up. The future belongs to you, the younger generation, and there is a better tomorrow waiting for you to create. Even if I am not there, you must continue to walk firmly, okay?"

"Um!"

Malashenko, who was holding the hand of Comrade Political Commissar with both hands, was already in tears at this moment, and his uncontrollable emotions were surging in his heart, almost on the verge of losing control.

Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, who was still looking at Malashenko, wanted to raise his hands. Malashenko, who could feel the touch in his palms, slowly let go of his hands.

Even the simple raising of hands became slow and laborious, and he slightly brushed his cheek, gently wiping away the tears on Malashenko's face. There was no fear of death in his smile as warm as the sun.

"There is something, I guess it must be your secret, you have never mentioned it to anyone."

Except for the two people on the bed and the bedside, there was no third person in the ward where the needle could be heard. The slow and somewhat labored words continued.

"Guess how many times have you been drunk since the day we met until now, spanning the entire Patriotic War? I'm counting them all for you."

I don’t understand why Comrade Political Commissar suddenly mentioned this. Malashenko, who was in deep grief, was still crying and speechless. He could only slowly shake his head.

"Once, only once. But I guess it's not that you can't get drunk, but more often you don't dare to get drunk, because that's the only time when you can't keep the secret in your heart, right?"

After hearing this, Malashenko was stunned for a moment and was speechless. Comrade Comrade Political Commissar, who seemed to have found the answer from Malashenko's expression, smiled and continued to speak slowly.

"That was shortly after Kirill's death, when we were taking a break from fighting on the domestic front and driving the Nazis out of the motherland."

"That night, you carried half a box of wine by yourself and sat alone on a small slope outside the division headquarters, drinking in the cold wind without calling anyone."

"When I found you, you had three or four empty wine bottles lying around. Some of them were drunk and some were spilled. They were all over your body and you were still drunk."

"I wanted to take you back, but you held my hand and said you had something to say to me."

""

Malashenko, who had no memory of this incident at all, did not know what to say, and in the end could only force a smile with tears on his face.

"Really? I don't even remember, so what did I tell you then?"

"You painted a picture of a broken and bleak future that was the first I had ever heard of."

""

Malashenko's forced smile stopped abruptly and he was completely stunned. His mind went blank for a moment, but he heard the comrade's speech continued.

"I'm not sure whether what you said that night is true, Comrade Malashenko, so can you answer a few more questions for me? This may be my last wish."

Malashenko no longer knew what to say and could only nod his head, still holding the increasingly weak hand of Comrade Political Commissar with both hands, not knowing how to answer the almost foreseeable questions that followed.

"In your time, were the people still living on this land still suffering from hunger? Did the children have desks and classrooms where they could study safely?"

""

At this point, there should be no more lies. Malashenko, who secretly made up his mind, nodded solemnly and truthfully.

"There will be no more hunger and panic, Comrade Political Commissar. At that time, the people living in this land lived a life without worries about food and clothing. The children also had a quiet desk and a stable classroom, and the sound of reading could be heard loudly. Far, far away, day after day.”

When obvious relief appeared on the face of Comrade Political Commissar, the second question also came up.

"When the Nazis sweep in again, will there be soldiers who will stand up and fight those scum to the end?"

After hearing this, Malashenko did not think twice and made up his mind without any hesitation.

"Yes! There will be, and there will always be! Comrade political commissar, you can definitely tell the difference between good and evil! Those dirty black bugs can never conquer this land we have protected!"

"Um"

The political commissar on the hospital bed nodded slowly, and finally spoke again after taking a long breath.

"In that distant future, will anyone still remember our story?"

Comrade Political Commissar's answer was still Malashenko's slow but firm nod.

"People at that time still firmly believed that as long as we remember, they are still alive."

All three questions were answered firmly. Comrade Political Commissar, who had fulfilled his last wish, lay on the sickbed, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling in his sight, and could not speak for a long time.

"Thank you for doing so much for us, for this era that does not belong to you. Thank you for allowing more soldiers and comrades who shed blood on the battlefield to have the opportunity to reunite with their families and witness victory with their own eyes."

"Thank you for everything you have done, Comrade Malashenko."

Comrade Political Commissar, who was unwilling to lie on the sickbed again, tried to sit up, but because his body was on the verge of collapse, he could no longer support such a simple action and almost fell off the bed.

Malashenko, who was quick-eyed and quick-handed, left his seat next to the sickbed and took the shaky commissar into his arms to support him. It was not until this time that he finally realized that Comrade Political Commissar had become incredibly light.

"Huh--"

"I have seen you go so far, so high, so beyond my imagination. Enough, enough, this is enough"

"Can you sing that song for me again? You said it was brought from the distant future, and I still remember the tune."

When the humming tune sounded in his ears, Malashenko, who was holding back his tears, finally sang the familiar lyrics again.

"After many hardships, laughter and tears, we finally flattened the obstacles ahead. As for the glory and credit, let God give it to us."

"Let the golden years we once had remain in the ancient ballads and in the breeze blowing in our faces."

"In order to make you stand proudly in the world, for you, the motherland. We will persevere, for you, the motherland."

"We will eventually sing and dance, for you, the motherland. Shout three Ura for you, for you, the motherland."

The melodious singing flew out of the window of the ward to the night sky, drifting far away, to the horizon, as if it was enough to travel through time and space.

"Motherland, I will always be your child. No matter where I am, you will always be in my heart, my motherland."

The song was sung to the end without accompaniment, and the aftertaste passed through the door of the ward and echoed for a long time in the corridor outside the door.

When the comrades who had been waiting outside the ward followed the fading song and gently opened the door and entered.

What they saw was Malashenko hugging the smiling face with his eyes closed peacefully.

Without any extra words, Vatutin, who had been waiting outside the ward, took the lead and took off the wide-brimmed military cap on his head, followed by Lavrinenko, Iushkin, and the entire No. 177 crew.

And Kurbalov and Valosha, who had just arrived after flying back from the Far East.

The silent military salutes were uniform in the ward, just like silent tears.

7 million words have been written so far, and these two chapters are probably the most uncomfortable and difficult to write. It took almost a day to polish them. I hope everyone will not feel too uncomfortable.