Steel Soviet Union

"I asked, are we prepared enough? There are more Polish ghosts than I thought. I'm afraid there won't be enough.

The scene in front of him not only frightened Malashenko, but also frightened Iushkin who was not expecting it.

The Poles who lined up to receive supplies ranged from old to young, old men in their 70s and 80s to children as young as five or six years old.

Under the supervision of the Red Army soldiers responsible for maintaining order, these Poles were relatively honest.

You can't expect such a group of hungry green-eyed people to inherently understand discipline and follow the rules with you. But as long as the thing in your hand is powerful enough and can produce a terrifying shock effect, then these people will choose to listen to you even if they are thinking about their own lives. For example, this is the case now.

"If it's not enough, just bring in another batch. Anyway, we have plenty of logistics."

Malashenko, with a cigarette in his mouth and squatting in a corner of the square, looked more like a gangster than a major general. His body was full of foul smell, and he was full of loyalty without speaking. He looked at the group of Polish soldiers. The look in people's eyes is like that of a gangster looking at a group of leeks living on his own territory.

"We defeated the most elite Wehrmacht division of the Germans and wiped them out all at once. The food supplies captured were enough to feed all the Poles you see here for a month. How many people can fit in such a small square? Even if it’s stuffed, it can’t be compared with a large-scale National Defense Force division. Let’s just distribute it with open mouth today. Enough, these things that taste like chewing horse manure will go bad if we keep them ourselves.

Indeed, as Malashenko said, the level of the leadership division, which is known as the most elite in the Soviet Army in terms of combat effectiveness, has long been different from what it used to be, and has undergone earth-shaking changes.

If you can eat fresh food, never eat canned food. If you can eat fresh meat until full, don’t eat animal organs.

I have long been tired of the canned Sempam luncheon meat that the Yankees provided me with. I can’t remember the last time I ate it. What little stock there is is now piled up in the division’s logistics and munitions department. No one cares about it. The sky is full of ashes.

So at this time, if you tell the leader about those canned German products, you will really look down on them and simply dismiss them. No one is willing to eat it after it is seized. If I have some free time to eat this thing, I will eat a hot beef stew with potatoes. Isn’t it delicious? Not to mention that the taste of the German canned food is getting worse and worse, and it has reached a level comparable to "Mussolini's ass".

I can't digest it all but it piles up like a mountain. It seems a bit extravagant and wasteful to throw it away for nothing, so what should I do?

It's easy to say that the problem can be solved by using the waste and sending it to the Polish ghosts. It just allows the Poles to be used as "garbage crushers". After that, they will have to be grateful to you.

Among the neatly stacked boxes of seized materials in the small square were not only cans and grains, but also a large number of non-staple foods and snacks distributed by the Germans.

There are all kinds of things like cigarettes, chocolate, sugar, coffee, etc. This was an absolute hard currency in the war years. In many cases, it was even more valuable than food. You can get more things by bartering. , but these things are not available to everyone in Poland.

"Well Podkaczynski, you have three children at home and a frail sister? A total of six people in the family?"

A regiment-level political commissar who speaks fluent Polish is sitting behind the table. Two combat engineers holding AKs stand on his left and right to guard him. He seems to be acting impartially. In front of him is a middle-aged man who is asked such questions. The Polish man nodded quickly, and then spoke in a panic.

"Yes, sir. Our family has been without food for three days. The children are crying all day long because of hunger. Those damn naughty dogs don't give us food, and they don't allow us to go to the streets to find food. Anyone dares to If you go out on the street, you will be shot to death by them, or you will be killed by dogs and then eaten by dogs.”

"Please, please, the great Red Army, please save our family, please the great leader Stalin. We really can't starve anymore, so please take pity on us and give us some food."

There are all kinds of people in war, some are vicious, some are arrogant, some are cunning, some are cruel, but civilians are indeed the most miserable group of people no matter when, where, or under what circumstances. All that is left to these people are the endless wounds of war. Wrapped in pain and agony, he doesn't even have the ability to resist, and can only drift with the flow, such as the unkempt, sallow, thin, middle-aged Polish man in front of him.

"Well, it's basically the same situation as mentioned above. It seems that you are quite honest, which is good."

The political commissar, who was similar in age to the man, nodded, then put down the list in his hand, raised the pen in his hand and signed his name on it, then raised the big seal on the side and stamped it with big names. The red stamp is very conspicuous.

"Okay, take this and go to the material receiving office over there to get what you need. Remember, you get what you get, and then leave, do you understand?"

The political commissar seems to be quite easy to talk to. At least he is willing to remind the Poles who have never met him a few rules. This is already very rare.

The thin and unkempt Polish man saw the list drawn on the table in front of him. He immediately held it in his hands as if he had picked up the most valuable treasure in the world and looked at it carefully. In just a few seconds, Qian En burst into tears of gratitude. Many thanks.

"Thank you, thank you! Thank you, the great leader Comrade Stalin! Our family will never forget today!"

The political commissar behind the table just smiled, obviously not taking what he said to heart, and then waved his hand to signal that the next person could come up and leave quickly.

The wise Polish man also knew that it was not advisable to stay here for a long time, so he immediately raised his legs and wanted to leave.

But he didn't expect that his 8-year-old daughter, who had been following him closely, stopped and was unwilling to leave. He thought that his obedient daughter would follow his Polish man as usual. It wasn't until he walked a few steps that he realized that The daughter was still where she was. After being stunned for a moment, she hurried forward and tried to drag her daughter away who was stunned.

"What are you doing? Let's leave quickly."

""

The little girl didn't speak, she just looked up dreamily at the table in front of her which was taller than herself. She was looking at an object on the table with her eyes in a trance. The reason why she couldn't lift her legs to leave was obviously the same. It's definitely that thing.

The political commissar sitting behind the table also noticed this situation, and followed the little girl's gaze to see what he had casually placed on the table just now: it was something he ate while walking and brought here before he had time to finish his lunch. The half piece of bread that was still uneaten at work still had the tenderness and aroma of freshly baked bread that was exclusive to the leader.

In these days, it is absolutely the best thing among breads, and it is the B2 stealth strategic bomber among breads.

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