Steel Soviet Union

The train platform, shrouded in moonlight and platform lights, was busy and bustling with people. A Soviet soldier wearing a boat-shaped hat and a large diagonal bag on his shoulders was running quickly, raising his right hand and calling loudly for Maratha. Schenko's name.

"Major Malashenko, Major Malashenko! Please wait, don't leave yet! I have something important to give to you!"

Malashenko, who had just finished chatting with the young lieutenant in front of him and was about to turn around and leave, stopped walking when he heard the voice calling his name, and then turned around again in the direction of the voice. Pass by and look around.

After hurrying and slowing down, I finally managed to squeeze through the crowd and rush to the platform at the last moment when Malashenko was about to board the train and leave. This man hurried over on a motorcycle with a sidecar and then rushed into the platform and squeezed out of the way. The Red Army soldiers who had entered the crowd were already panting.

"Major Malashenko, luckily I caught up with you. I have a letter from you here. It was sent from Moscow! The war situation along the way was very difficult, so it was delayed for two days. Please check it. "

Taking over a dark yellow envelope with a strong period color from the hands of this Red Army courier with a large mailbag on his waist, Malashenko straightened it out of curiosity and laid it flat in the palm of his hand, but because he saw the mail He looked surprised at the information in the letter column.

"Natalia? How could she be here at this time?"

When Malashenko, who kept all the memories of studying abroad at Moscow University before time travel and was familiar with Russian, saw the neat Russian handwriting on the envelope in front of him, which revealed a delicate and gorgeous atmosphere. A familiar and beautiful face immersed in the depths of memory immediately appeared clearly in front of Malashenko's eyes.

"Well, in a sense, this can be considered a letter from home."

Recalling the beautiful face in his memory, Malashenko then stuffed the letter that he had no time to open into the lining of his shirt. When Malashenko turned around again and saw the Red Army courier Behind the hurried figure who had already fled far away. Realizing that he had no extra time to stay here anymore, Malashenko turned his head in the direction of the lieutenant again.

"Let us meet again by chance, Comrade Lieutenant! Accept my gift, and I wish you can go further on the glorious battlefield of defending the motherland!"

After saying that, without waiting for the lieutenant in front of him to react, Malashenko threw the entire pack of cigarettes he had just opened into his hand.

By the time the lieutenant, who was holding the remaining cigarette in his mouth, recovered from his shock, Malashenko, carrying his own luggage, had already stepped onto the train next to him, following his crew members. , Kong Liu’s resolute back and the long sound of the train’s departure echoed in the lieutenant’s ears.

"Good luck to you too, Major Malashenko."

Accompanied by a long departure sound from the locomotive of the train, which echoed throughout the station under the night sky, the Soviet military train, which had deliberately chosen to depart at night to avoid German air attacks, finally embarked on its journey to Smolensk. .

In fact, this train, intended to transport urgently needed supplies and arms to several newly formed Soviet battle groups in the direction of Smolensk, was just a simple freight train and not a passenger train transporting soldiers.

So when Malashenko and his five people, who were just hitching a ride, boarded the only passenger car of this freight train, the scene of the empty car in front of them made them prepare to be squeezed into pieces. Malashenko and the five others who were preparing the cake felt a little sad.

"That's right, Major Malashenko. This passenger carriage was originally intended to carry some seriously injured people on the front line, and was specially prepared to transfer them from field hospitals to better medical facilities along the way for treatment."

"But I didn't expect that many troops who could still be contacted along the way have lost contact. Our train has passed the front line of fire several times. In the most serious cases, even the German artillery shells could hit the distance. The railway is less than 100 meters away. Not only did our military train not pick up any injured people, but we almost even got into it. It was really a safe journey all the way!"

Looking at the lively and cheerful train conductor in front of him, who was already sweating and looking overly frightened, Malashenko reached out to pat the uncle on the shoulder and responded softly with a smile. Open words of comfort.

"Thank you for your hard work, uncle. It is the unshirkable responsibility of us Red Army soldiers to protect our home and country. Thank you very much for being able to work hard on such a dangerous front line to provide our medical and logistical support!"

Hearing these soft words of comfort from Malashenko, the uncle conductor, who had been engaged in civilian cargo transportation on Soviet trains for more than ten years and was urgently recruited to the front line, had never been touched by the Red Army officer before. He comforted me with such intimate words.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you for your encouragement, Major Malashenko! It is an honor for me to be able to contribute to the motherland at the most critical moment. It is not hard work. Then I will leave this carriage to you. I still have work, so I’ll go back to the front of the car.”

After seeing off the conductor, an uncle who was nearly 150 years old, in a spacious and bright carriage, and watching his fellow train members, including the injured Iushkin, find their seats and settle down, there was Malashenko, who has a little free time, can finally resolve some of his own personal matters.

He took off his brand-new large black-brimmed tank soldier's cap from the top of his head and placed it on the edge of the table. After calming down and sitting down, Malashenko then took out the letter from the lining of his jacket. A distant envelope with body temperature.

"Okay, Malashenko, let me see what your childhood sweetheart girlfriend said in the letter."

As Malashenko reached out to open the envelope, he murmured to himself. Then, as his hands continued to move, what appeared in front of him was the still neat and beautiful large piece of Russian letter paper.

"When I heard from my neighbor's Aunt Liana that the German invaders had begun to launch a war, my first concern was for your life, dear Malashenko."

"I keep silently praying to God in my heart, asking Him to bless you and return alive from the guns of those evil invaders. When I was very young, my biological mother told me that praying to God can protect my future in the distance. Love brings peace. Although I have never seen a church or attended any church services since I was adopted by my current parents, I believe that God has always been in the hearts of each of us, right?"