Steel Soviet Union

I can’t remember how many nights I have spent in Leningrad. Due to the heavy casualties of the troops, I led the remaining eight KV1 heavy tanks to retreat to the edge of Leningrad city for temporary rest and stay away for the time being. As the front line roared with artillery fire and death, Malashenko was plagued by pain and illness, and huddled together and shook non-stop.

"Comrade Commander, you haven't eaten for a day. Your body won't be able to bear it if this continues. It's better to eat something hot to protect your health."

Holding the butt of the cigarette with the last puff left in his hand, Malashenko's lips trembled slightly, and he felt as if his whole body was being placed in a steamer. He almost responded with trembling words.

"Don't worry about me, Kirill. You guys can divide the food. I feel like I've been put in a bread oven. I can't eat anything at all. This food is a waste if I leave it here. Hurry up and eat while it's hot, this is an order."

Before he finished speaking while holding the last trace of the filterless cigarette in his hand, Malashenko, who felt like he was being placed in a steaming steamer just a moment ago, suddenly trembled all over, caught off guard by the coldness that hit him fiercely. The bone-chilling feeling is like taking off all your clothes and standing in the ice and snow, making you feel like you have fallen into an ice cave.

"You deserve to die! Just now it felt like you were stuffed into a bread oven, and now it feels like you were stripped naked and thrown into Siberia in the winter alive. What kind of damn disease is this!"

Having traveled from a later era when medical technology was highly developed, Malashenko has never suffered from such a set of illnesses in his short life of more than 20 years. At the moment, Malashenko has no idea what is going on with his condition. .

However, Malashenko, who is a later time traveler, does not know what kind of disease he has, but it does not mean that Kirill, who is a native of this era, does not understand.

Seeing Malashenko in front of him, who was so weak that he could not even flick out a cigarette butt due to the symptoms of hot and cold, Kirill, who had roughly guessed what Malashenko was going through, immediately He spoke again with an anxious look on his face.

"Comrade Malashenko, have you ever been bitten by a mosquito or other small bug in the grass before?"

mosquito? small bug?

Malashenko, who felt as if he had fallen into an ice hole, curled up in the corner and hugged his limbs tightly. He could barely hear Kirill's words clearly while trembling. After a brief thought, he finally got the answer. A moment of shaking his head.

"A few days ago, we slept in the wild grass every day. Now you ask me if I have been bitten by mosquitoes. What's the point. Every night when I sleep, I am carried away by swarms of mosquitoes that are like German bombers. This If you don't get bitten, are you still a human being?

The facts are exactly what Malashenko said now.

At the end of summer and early autumn, the suburbs of Leningrad are a paradise for mosquitoes and all kinds of bugs. Not counting those long legs, the big mosquitoes, whose belly and body alone are more than half the length of a matchstick, will immediately come out of the grass in groups as soon as the sun goes down, and they will dance wildly, sucking human blood to fill their stomachs. The belly provides for future generations.

It’s enough that the people living on this land are a fighting nation. The most terrifying thing is that even the mosquitoes bred in this fertile land are worthy of being fighting mosquitoes. Even the temperature in Leningrad drops to ten degrees at night. Even the bleak and cold winds cannot stop the blood-sucking desires of these crazy predators. The already rainy late summer and early autumn and the wild environment in the countryside provide them with natural breeding grounds.

Amid the buzzing sound, Malashenko felt like he was almost being carried away by the swarms of mosquitoes. Although he was extremely annoyed, he was indifferent in the face of the terrifying swarm of mosquitoes that could kill at least two people with just one slap. He had no other choice but to take out his officer's uniform coat and try to cover all the exposed skin on his body before sleeping.

But even so, once his eyes closed, Malashenko fell asleep completely and was no longer conscious. He would still be bitten by the all-pervasive mosquitoes, and he would barely wake up from his sleep early the next morning. The first thing I did was to scratch back and forth, wanting to peel off my entire human skin to relieve the itch.

Malashenko, who originally thought that he was unlucky enough to donate blood to mosquitoes every day, would not have expected that these terrible fighting mosquitoes would not only suck his own blood, but even treat infectious diseases in this era of relatively backward medical conditions. And extremely scary things will be spread to yourself along the way.

Thinking of the scene in which he was bitten by a mosquito in the past few days and was constantly tickling even when walking, Malashenko, who was almost certain of the source of his illness in a daze, felt his heart suddenly go cold.

"Damn it! It's okay that mosquitoes don't transmit diseases. Once they are infected by people, it will never be a minor disease! This was not explained to the Germans but they were killed by mosquitoes. Why the hell did I So unlucky?"

Malashenko, who felt a mixture of sadness and anger in his heart, just sighed and didn't notice that Kirill, who was carrying a lunch box for him beside him, had already disappeared without a trace.

A moment later, when Kirill, who looked in a hurry, came back with the military doctor, Malashenko, who was so limp that he could no longer hold the lighter, was shaking with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Comrade Battalion Commander, please look at me! Tell me how long have you been like this!?"

After the loud call rang in his ears, Malashenko realized that someone was coming next to him, and then turned his head tremblingly. The mere look of his bloody eyes covered with red threads was enough to stop the child from crying, and his condition recovered. Malashenko, whose hair was so severe that he almost lost the energy to speak, then spoke slowly and weakly.

"Two days, maybe three days? At first, I thought it was a fever and cold, and then I felt soreness in my limbs. By this morning, I was almost walking with my hands on the wall. As for the current situation, you have also seen that I have been unable to connect. I no longer have the strength to hold the lighter.”

After laboriously moving his lips, he slowly finished his sentence and then smiled faintly with an embarrassed and pale face. Malashenko, who was exhausted and felt that he was already dying, almost no longer had any hope at the moment.

In an era when antibiotics were not yet widely available, Malashenko, as a future time traveler, could almost guess what kind of horrific consequences would result from contracting a severe infectious disease.