Chapter 971 The Color of Justice (Revised)

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"It was Dr. Karachev who told me. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Karachev again! This damn old pervert!

Malashenko knew that Iushkin never lied to him and always said what he meant. Moreover, in the early 1943, Karachev was the only one in the entire brigade who knew about the existence of stockings, except for himself. No matter how he argued, it was reasonable.

"Women who wear this kind of thing will become fragrant."

When he thought of this sentence relayed from Iushkin, Malashenko could instantly imagine some evil images that were not suitable for children. It seems that Karachev's attainments in the study of stockings have reached the pinnacle. This is indeed the case in the current era. After all, he still underestimated the practice of this old pervert.

After wiping the remaining water droplets from the corners of his mouth with his hand, Malashenko planned to go back and have a good chat with Karachev to make him stop talking nonsense. Finally, under the gaze of Iushkin with a question mark on his face, he answered.

"That is something invented by the evil capitalism. The great Soviet Union does not need such things. We are communist fighters."

Iushkin did not answer. To be more precise, he did not know how to answer, because Iushkin still did not know what stockings were.

Malashenko, who was holding his tank cap against the car door and supporting his head with one hand, was also a little embarrassed. This weird atmosphere had an indescribable feeling that was elusive. It seemed that the answer he gave to Iushkin just now was not appropriate?

Thinking about it carefully, it seemed to be true.

"Uh, stockings, if it's stockings, it's..."

After a long time, Malashenko spoke again and seemed a little stuttering, but it was definitely not intentional.

It is worth noting that Iushkin's ears stood up and trembled twice the moment Malashenko opened his mouth, as if he was afraid of missing some extremely critical information.

"Although stockings are invented by capitalism, we should evaluate this thing from an objective and dialectical perspective. An object itself should not be attached to the theory of attachment, because it is just an object. The key is to see how it is used and what value and significance it brings out."

"Just like the guns of the Red Army soldiers are used to eliminate the evil fascists, the guns in the hands of the exploiting and oppressing capitalists are used to persecute poor workers and peasants. This is the complete opposite of justice and evil, but there is nothing wrong with the gun itself."

Iushkin, who seemed to understand, nodded vigorously. No matter whether he understood it roughly or half of it, he would remember it in his heart first. Malashenko's extremely socialist and communist explanation method made Iushkin, who has always admired Comrade Charioteer and regarded him as his goal, believe that these words are absolutely 100% correct.

"Let's put it another way. For example, if your lover wears beautiful stockings to welcome you back as a hero, then this is justice and it is the best use of the real value of the real object, because it is a reward for the hero, a sublimation of love, and a manifestation of loyalty."

"As for the negative example, do you know prostitutes? Iushkin, I remember that there should be descriptions of them in some literary works. Do you understand what I mean? This is the two-sided manifestation of the incorrect use of the value of objects."

To be honest, Malashenko's explanation is indeed quite accurate. Even Iushkin, who knows nothing, can show a sincere expression of sudden enlightenment.

"I understand, comrade car commander! Stockings are slaves who are exploited, persecuted and oppressed by evil capitalism. Capitalists force stockings to do bad things they don't want to do! It's to squeeze wealth for their own enjoyment! But in our Soviet Union, stockings are just, we are like-minded and have the same faith and pursuit. Without exploitation and oppression, stockings must be red! It is the color of justice!"

If Iushkin said this to comrades who have never seen stockings, many people would believe it, and it is even possible to be included in the book.

But if this is said to Malashenko, it is more than just a mixture of flavors! It's just like pouring cherry-flavored Coca-Cola into an authentic Sichuan hot pot and boiling it, then taking out the base with the soup, and pairing it with Lao Ba's secret hamburger for a bite!

This is no longer a mixture of flavors! This is an eight-nine critical strike on Malashenko, a double memory traveler! It is a lightning bolt that hits Malashenko, a drowned chicken in the rain, with smoke on his head and his hair standing upside down!

"Yes, you understand it very well, Iushkin, it is true."

Malashenko, who felt that half of his soul was lost, leaned weakly on the seat.

Continuing to explain the truth of the facts to Iushkin was something that only gods could do at this moment, not mortals like Malashenko.

There were many ruins on the main roads in the city, and Iushkin drove the car very slowly with his hands on the steering wheel.

From time to time, he had to bypass one or two craters of different sizes that suddenly appeared in front of him, and sometimes he even had to forcefully crawl through some large piles of ruins that could not be avoided.

Fortunately, the Willys Jeep of the Americans was indeed powerful, and it could go off-road and climb all kinds of rugged terrain without any obstacles, which really made Malashenko, who experienced and rode this legendary vehicle for the first time, very happy.

"This treasure is really good, Iushkin! I have to admit that some things made by the Americans are really very useful."

Iushkin, who had almost driven the car to the edge of the city, waved his hand. It can be seen that this car is not perfect in his mind.

"But this car has no weapons and can't fire, comrade commander. Maybe we should consider modifying it to make this capitalist car more communist, just like you said just now."

Iushkin learned and applied it immediately, and learned it quickly, but Malashenko, who didn't want to recall the conversation just now, had a slightly changed expression. Fortunately, this did not bring any serious follow-up effects.

"You can talk to Karamov about this problem later. He is good at modification and may be able to meet your wishes and install a heavy machine gun or something else."

"But I want a cannon, comrade commander."

"Then why don't you install our tank turret directly on this car, so that there is armor protection, isn't it better?"

""

The two people's awkward chat continued until the car drove out of the city.

Along the way, the sporadic gunshots that Malashenko heard became less and less, almost completely disappeared, and were replaced by groups of German prisoners of war, who were pale and thin and even staggered when walking, saluting in French style and slowly moving forward under the escort of Red Army soldiers.

More and more people who have endured the suffering of war for too long began to walk out of air-raid shelters and underground bunkers, returning to their former homes and now the dilapidated ruins, trying to find any remaining memories or useful things that can sustain their lives, constantly searching the ruins.

There will be bread and milk, everything is slowly getting better, and it will continue to develop in a better direction.

Malashenko, with a stern look that became more and more determined, continued to move forward on the road to the front headquarters, and firmly believed in this and had no doubt.