Chapter 540 A Beating

Everyone has a time when they can't bear the huge pressure and are on the verge of collapse. Sometimes this time is very close, sometimes it is very far away. The difference lies in how far a person can continue to stretch the limit of pressure.

The car of Malashenko, which exudes a strong smell of blood and rushes straight towards them, has obviously greatly exceeded the limit of the German soldiers' tolerance. The tracks that are about to crush their faces are almost enough to make people collapse.

After dinner, they always laugh and have fun when talking about the French who surrendered at the speed of light after only seven weeks of fighting. But when the German soldiers faced a scene that was even more severe than the situation the French had faced before, it became natural and reasonable for their contempt for the French to turn into empathy.

After all, surrendering doesn't seem to be so shameful at the moment, right?

Although the language is different, the white color fluttering in the wind is ultimately internationally recognized.

Holding the commander's periscope, he saw the white flag raised in the small pit less than 20 meters in front of him. Malashenko, who was a little puzzled about how these Germans could find the white thing in time every time they surrendered, couldn't help but shake his head slightly.

"I really don't understand where these Germans found such a white flag that is so close at hand"

"All crews, stop immediately! Go and confiscate the weapons of those Germans!"

Accepting the surrender of the German army may be very rare and worth bragging about for other Red Army tank units, but it has long been commonplace for the First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment led by Malashenko.

Holding the PPSh submachine guns that had been mass-produced in 1942, they jumped out of the car one after another. Except for a few tank crews who remained in the car to maintain combat alert, the other tank crews following Malashenko had already walked out of the tanks in accordance with the order, and raised the black muzzles in their hands to point at the Germans who had raised their hands to surrender.

The Red Army soldiers trotting behind the tanks rushed forward and punched and kicked the Germans. It was one of the glorious traditions of the Red Army to beat up the prisoners without thinking twice when capturing them. There were enough actual combat cases to show that doing so could make those Germans who were still a little dissatisfied become much more honest.

"Fuck-eating fascists! Go, do you want me to point my bayonet at you?!"

The Red Army soldiers holding the bayoneted Mosin-Nagant rifles were not polite to the enemy. The harsh scolding after the punches and kicks and the cold light flashing on the bayonet were enough to scare the Germans who had already raised their hands to surrender. However, a German officer with the rank of lieutenant obviously did not belong to this category.

"I want to see your superior! Let me see your superior! Don't touch me!"

"Damn German! Do you want to be shot?"

The mixed curses and shouts in German and Russian from about a hundred meters away on the right front attracted Malashenko's attention.

After the Winter War came to an end, Malashenko had been studying hard, and now he could basically understand some relatively simple and commonly used German words, such as "sir".

"What happened over there? Lavri, come with me to see."

"Okay!"

Holding his Suomi submachine gun in his hand, he came to the source of the sound with his good friend Lavrinenko, and saw that the German lieutenant, who was shouting that he could not understand German, was being beaten by the Red Army soldiers on the ground with his bare hands.

Two fists were swung with open arms and fell on the face of the German lieutenant like raindrops. Knowing that he was now a prisoner and had been disarmed, the German lieutenant did not dare to fight back and could only hold his head with both hands to block it. The Red Army soldiers who were watching the excitement around him did not stop it, but laughed and laughed with relish as if they were watching a play.

"Chekov, use your strength! Beat this German to death! Let him see the power of the Red Army's iron fist!"

"Hit his nose and make him bleed!"

"Use your strength! Chekov! Beat this German to look like Hitler, and I'll give you a pack of cigarettes, hurry up!"

The applause and cheers from his comrades around him made the Red Army soldier called Chekov fight more and more vigorously, and his two fists swung more and more fiercely, with a fierce momentum that he would not stop until he beat the German under his crotch to death.

Chekov's full concentration on beating the man focused all his attention, so much so that he didn't even notice the sudden stop of the cheers around him, until a strong and powerful big hand grabbed his little arm, and then he stopped his movements in a sudden shock.

"That's enough, comrade. If we continue to fight, this German will die. We can't get any useful information from a dead German."

Malachenko's words of resistance were effective.

Chekov, who recognized the man in front of him at a glance, stood up and saluted Malachenko. He was afraid that Malachenko would punish him. He looked like a child who had done something wrong and was admitting his mistake to his father.

"Comrade, I was too heavy-handed! But I really didn't mean it. It's just that these Germans are so hateful. My uncle was killed by their bombs. I can't get rid of my anger if I don't beat these Germans up!"

After listening to all of Chekov's explanations with an expressionless face, Malashenko slightly raised his right hand and waved it back, indicating that the matter could be stopped here and no further investigation would be carried out. Chekov, who understood the meaning of Malashenko's action, immediately stepped aside with surprise and gratitude in his eyes.

"Maxim! Go and call Sasha over to me and tell him that it's his turn to play!"

"Okay, Comrade Commander!"

After shouting to the crowd on the side and giving an order and receiving a timely shouting reply, Malashenko stretched out his hand to light the cigarette in his mouth and slowly took a breath before slowly squatting down.

Seeing that the German lieutenant had a nosebleed but was at least still fine and could barely speak, Malashenko raised his mouth slightly and immediately took off the cigarette in his mouth and blew the smoke in his mouth onto the other party's face.

"You are lucky to have survived my hands! You can brag about it in the prisoner-of-war camp."

In order to learn this German phrase used to show off when capturing prisoners, Malashenko worked hard for most of the night. Fortunately, it finally came in handy.

The German lieutenant, who was beaten and swollen, struggled to sit up with one hand. He barely understood this slightly awkward sentence, and a question came out of his mouth immediately afterwards.