Steel Soviet Union

Anyone who is suddenly called by name in an unfamiliar public place will suddenly come to their senses, and our Comrade Malashenko is no exception.

Looking at the young guard in front of him who looked quite energetic and capable, Malashenko, who seemed to understand something thoughtfully, immediately responded.

"It's me, I'm Malashenko."

After receiving an accurate response, he nodded briefly, and the young guard who slowly turned sideways immediately made a gesture of invitation towards Malashenko.

"Please come with me, Comrade Malashenko, Comrade Kotin is waiting for you in the carriage."

"Waiting for me in the carriage? So early!?"

He originally thought that he was waiting for Kojin, but to his surprise, Malashenko never expected that the situation would become that of Kojin waiting for him, and what the hell was this person waiting for him in the carriage?

Full of questions, he followed the guard leading the way into the carriage not far away. It was only after Malashenko actually stepped into the inconspicuous train parked on the platform that he discovered the problem. .

The obviously well-decorated carriages were very different from ordinary passenger trains at first glance. Malashenko, who had once ridden on a passenger carriage, knew exactly how shabby the carriage was that hurt his buttocks.

The clearly specially decorated interior in front of him looked like it was not for ordinary people to sit in. If he were to deduce it based on intuitive feeling, Malashenko estimated that this was at least a carriage that could only be used by high-ranking Soviet officials or big shots.

Just as Malashenko was looking around to take in the scenery like Grandma Liu entering the Grand View Garden, a sudden voice came from a corner that had not yet been reached by his sight.

"I've always heard that our Red Army's tank heroes are young and make people jealous, and it seems that's true."

Following the direction of the sound, I subconsciously looked back. A middle-aged man in his early thirties wearing military uniform was looking at Malashenko with a smiling face.

"Nice to meet you, Comrade Malashenko. The glory of you leading the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment to defeat the Fascist elite Grossdeutschland Infantry Regiment has spread to every corner of the Soviet Union."

No one even knew the other person's name. He was flattered for no reason at all. Malashenko, who felt that his head was a little hard to recover for a while, stretched out his right hand and shook hands with the man in front of him.

"Hello comrade, who are you?"

"Kotin, Joseph Yakovlevich Kotin, have you heard of this name? Comrade Malashenko."

"!!!"

"This guy is Kogin!?"

In his heart, he was momentarily stunned by the other party's self-introduction. Malashenko, who thought the person in front of him was Passerby A, could hardly believe his eyes. This face that looked almost ordinary was really... It's a bit different from the Ke Jing I imagined.

Having seen many photos and black-and-white videos of Kotin in distant later generations, Malashenko originally thought that the father of heavy tanks of the Soviet Red Army would be a man with a hint of cunning in his eyes and a rather gentle face. After all, this is how it is described in quite a few documents and descriptions about Kejing.

Kogin's ability to engage in class struggle and political struggle is as outstanding as his tank design talent. He is a person who looks ordinary but actually has a lot of scheming.

But the man standing in front of Malashenko is somewhat different.

With a harmless face, he looked like an ordinary office worker who had just gone out in the morning. Malashenko, who was already quite experienced in reading people, could not find any flaws in his eyes. He looked like a Same as the male teacher who teaches the children.

Except that the face of a man in his early thirties who was in his prime matched the description and record in his mind, Malashenko was stunned not to recognize the man in his early thirties who was still in the memory of the black and white photo in his mind. of Kotin.

Malashenko, who slowly recovered from the shock, nodded slightly towards Kotin, finally reconnected his disconnected brain, and then spoke in a slightly uncertain tone.

"What a surprise, Comrade Kogin. I, um, I mean I didn't expect us to meet here."

Kogin, who chose the meeting place on his own initiative in the carriage, was not surprised by Malashenko's surprise. Kogin, who planned to have a long talk with Malashenko, then pointed to the back seat next to him and said .

"Sit down, Comrade Malashenko, we have a lot to talk about today."

Feeling the soft touch under his buttocks, he once again glanced at the unusual decoration environment around him. He sighed in his heart that the treatment of Comrade Marshal's son-in-law was really different. Malashenko couldn't help but marveled.

"Okay, Comrade Malashenko, what would you like to drink? Vodka or water? Or something else."

Malashenko, who was already accustomed to the Soviet comrades' behavior of treating vodka as boiled water and taking a few sips when they had nothing to do, and had no intention of drinking on a formal occasion like today, waved his hand gently.

"I drank a lot last night, Comrade Kejing, just give me a glass of water."

Kogin, who only mentioned vodka politely and casually, did not find it strange. A relaxed and pleasant conversation atmosphere was the result he wanted.

"Okay, Kalinin, please go and get Comrade Malashenko a glass of hot water."

"Yes, Comrade Kotin."

A moment later, when the guard who guided Malashenko to the carriage handed two cups of hot water to each of them, the conversation between Malashenko and Kotin officially began.

"Regarding the prototype of the new heavy tank, Comrade Malashenko, do you have any guiding suggestions and opinions?"

Malashenko, who was accustomed to straight-to-the-point conversations, was not surprised and thought for a moment. After a moment, he blurted out a somewhat embarrassed answer to Kogin.

"I'm a little sorry, Comrade Kogin. The prototype tank I commanded was destroyed during the pursuit of the Fascist army. It was killed by a German 88 gun that penetrated the armor on the front of the tank."

"Oh? Did it penetrate the armor on the front of the car body? It seems that the statement that the car body armor was unreliable mentioned in the previous report is quite accurate."

Kotin gave Malashenko a humorous response by touching his thumbs with his hands clasped together. Kotin, who seemed not to be concerned at all about the destruction of his prototype tank, continued to ask with a serious expression.

"Comrade Malashenko, do you remember the engine number of the car you commanded?"