Chapter 966: Witness of Glory

And now, the bearer of the name that Paulus hated so much that he gritted his teeth was standing in front of him alive.

His face was covered with mud and oil, his winter cotton-padded jacket was wrinkled, and even the cotton threads had spewed out. It was extremely funny!

The opponent's ball-like clothes and the ugly tank hat on his head had nothing to do with beauty. To Paulus, it was like spitting in his face.

Such an extremely slovenly guy, who is definitely the lowest and despicable existence among farmers, even worse than the sweaty and smelly workers in the factory, actually defeated the most elite troops of the Sixth Army. The "Iron Butcher"? How could the Sixth Army lose to such a guy over and over again! ?

Malashenko, who saw Paulus's wonderful and ever-changing distorted facial expressions, was filled with a sense of joy in his heart. He really liked Paulus's expressions, which were even more exciting than the face-changing expressions of Sichuan Opera. He even more To describe it more accurately, I never tire of it!

"I'm happy to tell you something. What you do next is not up to me, Paulus."

"If I were you, I would think in advance about how to talk to the generals and marshals of the great Soviet Red Army, and how to better confess everything. Smart people will do this, and you are no exception, right?"

Before Paulus could answer, Malashenko's throat seemed to be a little uncomfortable, and he spat a mouthful of phlegm to the ground under his forehead.

Paulus had to admit that he was startled and subconsciously looked at his feet. Fortunately, the spittle from the opponent did not spit on the upper of his shoes, but only fell into the area less than three centimeters from the heel. A small hole melted into the snow.

When Paulus raised his head again, the man in front of him had turned and left, leaving behind a silhouette of his back waving orders to the surroundings.

"Captain Varosha!"

"arrive!"

"These German prisoners are all yours! Look after them! If you let one go, you will be a criminal of the motherland. If you let a general go, he will be shot! Do you understand?"

"Of course, Comrade Malashenko! Don't worry, leave it to me!"

After yelling at Malashenko on his left, he turned his head, and then spoke to Lavrinenko who was walking with him.

"Radio, radio, or sending someone to drive to convey it, no matter what method is used! In short, the news of victory must be conveyed as soon as possible. First, report it to the brigade headquarters to inform the political commissar comrade. He will report it directly to the front army headquarters, and then We don’t have to worry about these things! Next is the moment of honor, get ready to be a hero, my dear old classmate!”

Lavrinenko, who listened carefully to Malashenko's orders, looked back at the large number of German prisoners behind him, and saw countless Red Army soldiers beating and kicking them like dogs, beating and kicking them to drive away these dead mothers. of fascists.

The joy of victory overflowed on everyone's face, and the cheers of one person leading ten people, ten people leading a hundred people, and a hundred people leading a thousand people soon swept the entire sky like wildfire.

"Victory! Ulla!!!"

"We are victorious! Long live Stalingrad! Long live the great leader Comrade Stalin!!!"

"Victory! Victory! We win!!! Ula!!!"

Looking at this real and unbelievable scene in front of him, Lavrinenko, who still felt like he was dreaming, couldn't help but turn around, and his tone of voice when he spoke quietly was still full of uncertainty.

"Did we really win like this? The Sixth Army, the most elite German army, was just finished like this???"

The brutal battle that burned flesh and blood exhausted the souls of all those who participated in the battle. It lasted from summer to autumn, from autumn to the first snow, from the first snow to the severe winter, and from mid-1942 to the beginning of 1943!

Malashenko, who couldn't help but raise his head and look up at the sky, took a deep breath.

The brutal battle that lasted for more than half a year almost brought Malashenko to his knees. Being able to get to this point is enough to bring tears to his eyes!

Countless soldiers soaked the earth of the motherland under their feet with their blood and lives. On top of the piles of corpses, the red flag that stood tenaciously until the end was still the same!

Everything was not in vain. What was defended from the iron heel of the invaders was not only the sacred territory, but also the hope given to people in the face of adversity and despair.

The news of victory will soon spread to every inch of the country along with the names of the heroes. The evil Fascist invaders fell into the cold winter as always, unable to make even an inch of progress on this red land!

How much Malashenko hopes that Commander Yakov, Lieutenant Vasily, the bearded Maxim, his own electromechanical officer Seryosha, and all the people who have fought alongside him can see this cheering, Exciting moments that evoke victory.

These brave and lovely people can never open their eyes again. Now Malashenko uses his inherited will and his own eyes to witness the arrival of this great moment for them.

Malashenko, who could not help but shed tears at the corners of his wet red eyes, did not regret anything he had just done, even if he tore off the shitty skin of those damn abominable fascists and threw them on the ground and stepped on them ten thousand times. No return to those lives that have been lost.

The two brothers, Malashenko and Lavrinenko, who fought side by side, unconsciously leaned against each other. With more and more tears, they couldn't stop crying and finally sat down on the ground. Their tears and laughter resounded in the battlefield sky where the dark clouds gradually dissipated. The golden sun finally cleared up and sprinkled on the war-torn land.

Malashenko, who didn't care about anything else, just lay on the ground with his legs spread out. With tears all over his face, he smiled and widened his eyes, looking up at the sky above his head, which had not been so blue for a long time.

Lavrinenko, who also lay on the ground beside the pile of corpses, seemed to have forgotten Malashenko's order, but it didn't matter anymore.

With a burst of brake sounds coming from the speeding car, Malashenko, who clearly felt the vibration from the ground under him, raised his head slightly and saw the figure who kicked open the car door and strode over from not far away. He was so familiar and kind.

"You two, bastards! I thought you two were knocked down by the enemy, lying in the pile of corpses, staring at the sky and grinning foolishly. A brigade commander and a deputy brigade commander of the Guards, how can I say that you two are good!?"

Malachenko, grinning foolishly, still lay on the ground, lying on his back and refusing to get up, but his right hand, which was waving, pointed in the direction of the soldiers who were still cheering behind him. The dozens of IS1 and KV1 heavy tanks parked densely and staggered in the entire department store square were also the best witnesses of this magnificent scene.

"Calm down, comrade political commissar, listen carefully, this is the sound of victory we paid a painful price for."

"Once, just this time, let me listen here for a while, I can't leave this place now."

What was the situation before?

Commissar Petrov, who had just arrived, didn't know.

But at least now, at this moment, Political Commissar Petrov was sure that the smile on Malachenko's face was the sincere smile that he hadn't seen for a long time.