Chapter 700 After the War

The German counterattack was repelled, even if it was only temporary.

Malashenko and Division Commander Chelchenkov, who were united in command, led the infantry and tanks to resist the German offensive and completely repelled the German troops who tried to return to the forward division. Although the loss was not small, at least the German tactical intentions were not achieved. The German troops who had been unable to take the train station from this morning to now had suffered heavy casualties and needed some time to lick their wounds.

The time was 5:12 pm, and half of the control of the train station returned to Malashenko's hands.

The German army, which suffered major setbacks and casualties, was stationed in the north of the train station. The First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment commanded by Malashenko, and the infantry division of Division Commander Chelchenkov, occupied the south of the train station.

The two sides used the ruins of the collapsed waiting hall as the dividing line, and arranged their own mobile secret sentries to monitor and guard against each other when the closest distance was only more than 300 meters.

At least before receiving strong reinforcements, neither side had the strength to launch an attack on the other side.

The intense and fierce battle that lasted for a whole day made Malashenko feel a little exhausted physically and mentally.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Malashenko was fiddling with a bayonet in his hand to pick up a pile of minced meat that was crushed by his car in front of him, a pile of bloody minced meat belonging to Colonel Wex.

The tip of the knife poking around in the minced meat seemed to touch some hard metal object. Realizing that he had gained something, Malashenko picked up the metal object from the pile of meat with the tip of the knife. Then, what appeared in front of him was a first-class Iron Cross medal that had been squeezed to deformation.

"Hey, the prize for rewarding scum is really good."

The half of the Iron Cross medal picked on the tip of the knife was placed in front of him and looked at it carefully for a few more times. After looking left and right, Malashenko still couldn't see anything and threw it aside with disdain. Immediately afterwards, with a try-and-see attitude, he poked the tip of the knife into the pile of meat again. After poking it twice, he made a rather unexpected discovery.

"Hmm? What?"

Malashenko muttered that he didn't know what he had poked. Then he turned the back of the knife to the side and poked it outward. A bloody rectangular object fell lightly into his hand.

"Hmm, it seems to be a photo?"

Realizing that the blood-stained thing in his hand was likely a photo, Malaashenko, with a curious mentality, picked up a piece of torn paper from nowhere. It was probably a document or something like that dropped by the German army on the ground. Then he pressed the blood-stained photo on the blank area of ​​the paper and wiped it.

The black and white photos of this era are not very clear. It is even more difficult to see the things on them clearly after they are stained with blood.

After pressing the photo on the white paper and wiping it for a long time, Malaashenko felt that his work had paid off. Although the things in the photo were still blurred by the blood stains, at least when he put it in front of his face and looked at it, he could still see clearly what was taken.

The picture presented in the photo is a man, a woman and two children.

The man in the uniform of the Wehrmacht stands in the middle of the photo and hugs the woman. Two children who look about 14 or 15 years old stand on both sides. Everyone's face is filled with happy smiles without any hypocrisy.

Obviously, this is a family photo that he carries with him, just like the photo of Natalia and himself that Malashenko carries with him.

"Humph, you still have a family, I thought you were a scumbag who jumped out of the cracks of the stone."

Malashenko muttered sarcastically and recognized that the man in the middle of the photo was the German colonel who was begging for mercy from him a few minutes ago. It really surprised Malashenko that such a dirty scum had formed a family.

"Yeah, who doesn't have a family? Wasn't the guy he killed also born by his father and mother?"

After speaking lightly, Malashenko shook his head slightly and threw away the bloody photo in his hand. Feeling that there would be no valuable items in the pile of minced meat in front of him, he stood up and strode towards Political Commissar Petrov who was counting casualties not far away.

What Malashenko didn't expect was that at this moment, far away in Berlin, Germany, a woman was doing exactly the same thing as he just did.

The street named after Imperial Marshal Hermann Goering is the most scenic place in Berlin, the capital of the Third Reich of Germany.

Several small villas in the British country style are located in a very obvious position on the street. Opposite the small villas are parks with birds singing and flowers blooming and pleasant and beautiful natural scenery.

People who can live on Hermann Goering Street are all high-ranking military families or powerful people in Berlin. Ordinary civilians can only look up to the residence on this street named after the Imperial Marshal.

Fortunately, Mrs. Bertha's husband had enough power and status to allow his family to move into the small house on this street.

Colonel Weichs, who came from the General Staff, was now fighting in Russia and was said to be helping the Führer capture the strategically valuable city of Stalingrad.

Colonel Weichs had a good personal relationship with Chief of the General Staff Halder. Someone had seen the two of them drinking and chatting together in a beer hall.

Although General Halder had been forced to retire and take a sinecure in the "Fuhrer's Reserve Army" because of his disagreement with the Fuhrer, Colonel Weichs, who had good interpersonal relationships, was not implicated. His family still lived well in the best street and the most beautiful villa in Berlin.

Sometimes some officers from the General Staff would come to visit Mrs. Bertha, visit her children and bring some gifts, and talk to Mrs. Bertha about her husband's situation on the front line to comfort her.

The birds on the branches only called twice in the early morning and flew away quickly, which made Mrs. Bertha, who was used to washing breakfast plates listening to the birds singing, feel a little uncomfortable.

Just as Mrs. Bertha was about to wipe the last plate she had just washed and put it in the cupboard next to her, the doorbell, which rarely rang at this time, suddenly made a sound.

Creaky--

After the door opened, the next thing I saw was the face of a young boy with a sunny face and a smile.

Mrs. Bertha recognized the man in front of her. He was the door-to-door postman on Hermann Goering Street, responsible for providing door-to-door letter delivery services to the powerful families on this street.