Chapter 713 The Price of Victory

If Malashenko guessed correctly, a hole of this size should have been made by a Luftwaffe "Small Sweet Potato" aerial bomb weighing about 100 kilograms.

Although this did not cause any devastating damage to the building itself, the rainwater that was falling was constantly flowing into the field hospital along the hole the size of a water tank.

Although the beds for the wounded that had been moved manually were far away from the hole, they would not be exposed to the rain. However, the wounded who were slightly injured and were placed on the ground because of the shortage of beds were out of luck.

Without effective drainage facilities, a large amount of rainwater that fell into the house could not be drained out at all. After converging on the ground and forming a small river, it flowed directly everywhere.

The pads spread under some of the wounded had been soaked by the indiscriminate flow of rain, and some even had half of their bodies almost submerged in water.

Malashenko, who frowned slightly, then turned around and looked around at his surroundings, but he couldn't find a dry place that could be used to place the wounded. Almost all the positions were arranged. It was full of people, and the shattered ceiling overhead had at least four or five similar places leaking at the same time.

There is no doubt that the environment in such a field hospital is extremely poor.

"How many wounded do we have here now?"

There was clearly a hint of something ominous on Malashenko's face, and after a slight hesitation, Karachev spoke in a confident tone.

"There are about a thousand wounded. Last night, the number was only 800, but after the battle this morning, the number increased to 1,000."

"In fact, there should have been more wounded now, but some people could not survive last night and this morning. There were about three hundred bodies sent for disposal. We were unable to save many of them. "

Malashenko was a little surprised when he heard this number. The casualty report that Commissar Petrov showed him before leaving did not include so many people at all.

"Why are there so many wounded? This is inconsistent with the casualty report I received. Where did the extra ones come from?"

Malashenko, who had a question mark on his face, did not wait too long. Karachev gave the answer almost without hesitation.

"The vast majority are the wounded of our division, Commander Malashenko, and the wounded of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment only account for a small part."

"Due to limited medical conditions and manpower, we decided to merge the field hospitals together after discussion, so that we can concentrate our efforts to treat the wounded to the maximum extent. In addition, there is really no extra place to place the wounded, and the entire south side of the station was almost completely destroyed. There is not even a single intact building, and only this place can barely keep out the wind and rain.”

Division Commander Cherchenkov, who was eager to save people, carried out a fierce attack almost regardless of the cost of casualties in the attack yesterday afternoon. The three regiments, according to their respective preparations, went into the battle with all their guns and live ammunition and took turns attacking the German positions.

The ferocious impacts that hit one after another like a tsunami soon made the German troops guarding the south of the station unable to hold on and were quickly defeated until they were completely wiped out. The surprise battle commanded by Division Commander Cherchenkov took just over an hour to achieve the tactical goal, tearing apart the German defenses south of the train station and entering the interior of the station.

But in contrast to this, there is the inevitable huge cost of casualties after assembling a large number of troops at a single breakthrough point to launch a frontal assault. This is also an unavoidable problem that has always been accompanied by the Soviet army throughout the Patriotic War. .

Zhukov, who adopted an enlarged version of such tactics in his overall strategy, is a good example. Even a super commander like Zhukov, who is as powerful as the God of War of the Red Army, cannot avoid the problem of excessive casualties in later counterattacks.

The greater the victory, the greater the sacrifice.

This is an unavoidable phenomenon that is always directly proportional. The same is true for Division Commander Cherchenkov who wanted to achieve a breakthrough before dark and join up with Malashenko, so he launched an aggressive attack at any cost. The final result was nearly a thousand casualties after more than an hour of fighting.

After listening to what Kalachev said, Malashenko always felt a bitter taste in his mouth and a bad feeling in his heart. The expression on his face and eyebrows were almost twisted together.

He bleeds for the motherland and has his limbs amputated, but he still has to lie in such an environment and let the wind and rain beat him. Later generations often say that the soldiers who defend the country should not bleed and shed tears, but now Malashenko feels that such a thing is happening to him. It's really happening around us.

"I will find a way to send people over as soon as possible to deal with these problems. At least we can't let the wounded continue to soak in the water, and we can't let our soldiers continue to shed tears after bleeding for the motherland."

Having temporarily determined a solution to the most thorny problem at the moment, Malashenko, who felt quite heavy, continued to move forward to start his real mission of the trip: condolences to the wounded.

In distant future generations, leaders would always smile and speak softly when visiting the wounded. However, Malashenko, who is in a very bad mood now, can hardly squeeze out that smile that is uglier than crying. He has a lot of troubles. The feeling of being stuck in your heart will always seriously affect your mood.

After taking a few steps forward, Malashenko came to the hospital bed in Chapter 1, which was poorly made and looked very old.

Lying on it was a seriously injured amputee who had lost all his legs below the knee.

Malachenko, who was dressed in a neat uniform, took off his military cap and stretched out his right hand. The wounded man who was lying on the iron bed with lifeless eyes looking at the ceiling immediately reacted. His head wrapped like a dumpling and his upper body wrapped in bandages immediately straightened up facing Malachenko.

"Comrade commander! Voloshenko, the driver of car No. 312, reports to you. I wish you good health!"

What awaited Malachenko's right hand hanging in the air was not a palm-to-palm handshake, but a standard military salute from the seriously injured man who had lost both legs.

Although his hand was hanging in the air, he did not feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. Malachenko, who had retracted his right hand, squeezed out a warm smile. At the same time, he raised his right hand to his face and returned the salute to the driver who saluted him while sitting on the bed.

"Thank you for all you have done for the motherland! Comrade Voloshenko! How are you feeling now? Are you feeling unwell?"

Although he looked normal on the surface, Malashenko was actually filled with shame.

Before seeing him and hearing his name, Malashenko didn't even know that he had such a tank commander.

Since retreating from the Kharkov front, Malashenko has lost count of how many times the First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment under his command has received reinforcements.

Waves of young faces came and died, and then came again, so fast that Malashenko had to sign their names on the list of sacrifices before he had time to remember the names on the list of reinforcements.