Chapter 419 The Far East

The war eagle, which was only two to three hundred meters above the ground, whizzed past the head with the strong wind and huge roar of the propeller. Malashenko, who had experienced such a scene for the first time in both his previous life and this life, couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart. , the face in the cockpit with hands raised in salute that can be seen clearly with the naked eye seems somewhat familiar.

"I have never seen a fighter jet flying so low. This guy is so courageous, Comrade Commander."

Compared to the look of amazement on Iushkin's face, who was sitting on the top of the turret in a lazy and relaxed posture, Malashenko, who had just raised his hands and saluted in his mind, was thoughtful.

"Have I seen him there? Why do I always feel like this person is so familiar?"

Malashenko, who had been trying to think about it for a long time but could not come to a conclusion, then turned around and looked at the horizon behind him. Including the Red Star V MiG-3 fighter, there were only single digits of Soviet fighter aviation left. Facing the sunset, the afterglow roared away in the direction from which it came.

"Thank you for their hard work. Without them, we would not have been able to win this battle."

Following the direction of the sound, he looked back to his side again. Commissar Petrov's expression had lost its slightly sad expression, which made Malashenko, who was still worried about Commissar Petrov's mental condition, I couldn't help but feel happy.

"Those memories don't seem to cause you much trouble, do they, uncle?"

The familiar and cordial change of title was like the smile that appeared on the corner of Malashenko's mouth, which infected Commissar Petrov. There were too many complicated and indescribable emotions between him and the young man in front of him. A smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. The superficial political commissar Petrov is also very straightforward.

"The political commissar has things that a political commissar should do. Comrade leader, you should also deal with the things you should do now."

Lavrinenko and the others, who had just finished a blood-soaked fight on the battlefield, were waiting for Malashenko's return. Thinking of this, Malashenko, who knew what he should do now, still had a trace in his heart. The care that is hard to let go of.

"I won't go to the field hospital for the time being. Comrade Political Commissar, go tell Ruskov to bring Kirill back alive! I'm waiting for him to tell me the good news in person!"

Although judging from the words given by the military doctor Ruskov before he finally left, Kirill, who had not yet died due to excessive blood loss, seemed to have a high possibility of survival.

However, Malashenko, who traveled from later generations, is very aware of the huge gap between full-power rifle bullets and intermediate-power rifle bullets.

If I had to describe it yesterday, the kinetic energy of the two is like the difference between a punch punched by an adult and a punch punched by a primary school student. The 92mm full-power rifle bullet directly hit the back and penetrated the chest. And Kirill who entered was definitely not just slightly injured.

Looking at the entrusting expression on Malashenko's face in front of him, Commissar Petrov, who knew what Malashenko was thinking, immediately nodded in response.

"I understand, leave everything to me! Kirill is not only your subordinate loader, but also my nephew. I will use every method to find a way to rescue him!"

Commitment between men only requires a brief glance and a few words without any need for words.

Malashenko, who had understood everything from the eyes of Commissar Petrov, immediately turned around and strode straight towards his car without looking back.

Except for the temporary inability to load shells smoothly, the crew of the one-person-missing crew was doing okay in other aspects. The remaining three crew members who were still closely united around Malashenko also returned to their positions in the car after hearing this. Malashenko, who put half of his body into the turret, then waved goodbye to Commissar Petrov with a casual military salute.

"Tell the dumb guy in Yakov for me, they fought beautifully in this battle!"

Political Commissar Petrov, who was looking at each other and facing the focus of his field of vision, responded with a smile that said, "It's all about me." Malashenko, who had temporarily entrusted Kirill with his concern, immediately closed the hatch cover. Yu returned to the turret.

The familiar smell of the diesel engine filled every wisp of air inside the tank, making it feel inexplicably like coming home. Malashenko, who had long been accustomed to this originally choking smell, was now somewhat inseparable from such an environment.

If you have to say it, it is probably only in such an environment that Malashenko can feel a sense of security and find himself. This is probably the only answer that makes sense.

Sitting sideways on his gunner's seat, playing with the Tokarev TT33 self-defense pistol in his hand. In his spare time, he always likes to use the empty magazine to pull the slide and play with the gun to relieve stress. Poor Iush has few entertainment options. There was only one thing Jin could do besides smoking.

"We won the final victory in this battle, right? Comrade Commander."

The somewhat unconfident words that came out of his mouth sounded slightly self-deprecating to Malashenko. Malashenko, who understood what Iushkin was thinking at the moment, did not take it too seriously.

"Victory is only relative, Iushkin. The comrades who died entrusted us with their pursuit and hope for victory. The living must carry the will of the dead and continue walking with a heavier pace."

Although Iushkin, who also graduated from the Orthodox Tank Academy, is a few years younger than Malashenko, he is not inferior to Malashenko in terms of cultural knowledge. Iushkin, whose father is a government official and mother is a grocery store manager, can be said to have received a relatively good education since childhood.

"Sometimes I always feel very strange, Comrade Tank Commander, I think you are more suitable to be a political commissar. There are many things you say that I have never heard from other people or read in books. When I am with you, I always feel a very strange feeling. Oh, and you often say those words that I don’t understand. What do they mean? Comrade Tank Commander."

Whenever he gets excited, he can’t help but blurt out his hometown dialect and eggplant-style curses from his previous life. Now that Malashenko has finally asked him about this problem that he has always been worried about, Malashenko can’t help but be speechless.

"Do you know China? Iushkin."

"China?"

Iushkin was confused by Malashenko's sudden question. After a while of thinking, this unfamiliar name, which seemed to have just been heard from there, finally emerged in his mind from the long river of memory.