Chapter 710: Boredom

Malachenko didn't want to tell the exact time, he just told Petrov a rough time.

After hearing Malachenko's answer, he felt that his question seemed a bit abrupt, so he didn't take it too seriously, just a casual chat to relieve boredom.

The heavy rain that started last night didn't show any sign of stopping.

Malachenko, who kept walking around in the headquarters, wanted to take a nap to replenish his energy, but when he thought that the German attack might come right after the rain stopped, he was worried that the Germans would attack at any time, and he instantly lost all his sleepiness.

Sitting around in the headquarters with nothing to do, he wanted to take a nap, but he was worried that the restless Germans on the opposite side would attack at any time and ruin the big thing.

In this era of material scarcity, people in peacetime do not have many ways of entertainment. Soldiers in wartime are even more bored. In their spare time, there is almost no common way of entertainment except smoking and drinking.

Seeing that Malashenko, who was bored, sat at the table and smoked almost a whole box of cigarettes in less than an hour, Political Commissar Petrov, who was afraid that he would die if he continued to smoke like this, put down the pen in his hand and raised his head to speak.

"If you continue to smoke, you will smoke yourself to death. Before that, you'd better think of something else to do, distract your attention and find something to do."

Malashenko, who was immune to cigarettes, had almost reached the level of being immune to all poisons. He took the cigarette butt out of his mouth after smoking another cigarette in just one minute, and extinguished it in an ashtray made of a German M35 helmet on the table in front of him, and then replied.

"Otherwise? What do you think I can do now? I want to take a nap, but the conditions do not allow it. I bet that as soon as the rain stops, the Germans will come and attack. Now I have nothing to do except smoking. Of course, if you have any good suggestions, I'm all ears."

Looking at Malashenko's helpless expression, Political Commissar Petrov sighed and handed a report in his hand to Malashenko.

"This is the latest casualty statistics report. The field hospital is now full of wounded. I originally planned to go to the hospital to see the wounded, but based on the current situation, you should be more suitable."

"How about it? Are you interested in visiting our wounded comrades? Getting personal inquiries from the regiment commander will make their injuries heal faster."

Holding the report handed over by Political Commissar Petrov in his hand, Malashenko, who always felt something was wrong, spoke back with a little doubt.

"You are not lazy and don't want to go, so you send me there? You are more suitable for counseling the wounded than me. I think this is not normal. I'm serious."

The fact is just as Malashenko said. In the past, the wounded were basically comforted by Political Commissar Petrov. His identity as a political commissar is also better for working among the soldiers. As the chief military officer, Malashenko asked himself that he was really not as good as Political Commissar Petrov in this regard, so he asked such a question.

Slightly surprising is that Political Commissar Petrov did not make too much cover-up but directly admitted the facts in his mind.

"To be honest, I really want to be lazy. In the past few days when you were away, I went to the field hospital almost every few hours. Now I have a little nose allergy when I smell disinfectant and alcohol, but you are different."

Putting another corrected document aside, Political Commissar Petrov closed the pen cap with one hand and looked expectant.

"How about it? Do you go there in person, or do I have to bring your blessings and condolences to you reluctantly?"

""

Malachenko frowned as he held the long list of injured in his hand.

To be honest, Malachenko didn't want to go to a place like a hospital. The scenes he had been to before were either basins full of broken arms and legs, or several basins of human blood piled on the ground like a pig slaughter in the countryside of China. If one accidentally kicked the basin over, he would be in trouble.

Holding the list in his hand, he hesitated again and again, and after thinking for nearly half a minute, Malachenko finally gave a positive answer.

"Okay, I'll go. You keep an eye on the regiment headquarters, and send someone to call me at any time if there is any situation."

Political Commissar Petrov, who was told by Malachenko, shook his head and smiled faintly. Sometimes Malachenko was really nagging.

"Even if I'm not here, there's still Division Commander Cheerchenkov next door, so there's nothing to worry about."

Subconsciously, he wanted to say something else, but after changing his mind, he felt that was right.

With nothing else to say, Malashenko walked to the door, picked up an umbrella, pushed open the door that was blocked by the strong wind outside, and rushed out.

The field hospital in the rear is less than one kilometer away from Malashenko's regiment headquarters, located in the southern area of ​​the captured railway station.

When Malashenko led his troops to break out from the warehouse northeast of the railway station yesterday, the wounded, doctors and nurses in the field hospital were directly mixed with the field maintenance battalion and took a truck to break out of the fire line.

If the German army, which was only thinking about putting out the fire in the south, was half a beat too slow to react, and the counterattack force mobilized by Malashenko was rapid and rapid, the non-combatants at the center of the army would have been properly protected, holding up umbrellas. Malashenko, who was walking on the road to the field hospital, suspected that something bad might really happen.

The heavy rain that has been falling since last night has made the road very difficult to walk on.

Originally, the ground to the south of the train station was paved with bricks and stones. Although it was not very smooth, at least one foot would not be deep and the other foot would not be covered with dirty water and mud when one walked on it. It was better than stepping on the bumpy mud puddles now. Strong inside.

Thinking that the train station was like this because of the fierce attack by the German guys, Malashenko, who regretted why he didn't call a car to take him here when he went out just now, couldn't help but want to curse.

"These bastard Germans will one day let you taste for yourself what it's like to fight on your own soil!"

Due to the previous fierce fighting and fighting to the south of the train station, almost all habitable buildings were destroyed. The field hospital now located south of the train station is not sheltered from the wind and rain in a complete building.

What appeared in front of Malashenko was a temporary field hospital pieced together from several half-collapsed houses that looked like they were about to become ruins.