Steel Soviet Union

In the command vehicle of the commander of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Brigade, Malashenko, who was sitting in the commander's position, was debugging the radio at hand. A hoarse blind tone came from the radio transmitter in his other hand. , does not look like effective communication has been established.

"Miss the days of having someone set up your radio for you?"

Malashenko, who was sitting in the turret, was stunned. His right hand that was dialing the frequency of the radio button suddenly stopped. Iushkin, who was sitting outside the turret smoking, heard the sound of continuing to speak.

"Sometimes I think how nice it would be if our tanks had always had five-man crews. If that were the case, Nikolai might not have to die in the train station."

On the surface, it sounds a bit like Iushkin deliberately not opening and lifting certain pots.

But in fact, the severe pain of losing a comrade is the same for every member of the No. 177 crew. This pain and the avoidance of not wanting to remember are not only burdened by Malashenko.

After returning to this city full of sad memories, Iushkin, who seemed to be getting more and more sentimental, would always be idle and in a daze. Several times, he didn't even notice Malashenko's footsteps coming from behind. Until he was slapped on the shoulder by Malashenko and his whole body trembled.

Although somewhat evasive when asked why, Iushkin's eyes could not lie according to his will.

Malashenko knew what Iushkin was thinking, but at the same time, this sadness was unknowingly infecting Malashenko, and Malashenko could not control or escape it with his own subjective consciousness.

Human hearts are made of flesh, and even the hearts of heroes are not hard-hearted and emotionless.

Iushkin said this casually, intentionally or unintentionally, and Malashenko, who stopped what he was doing, fell into memories.

"Ideal? I haven't considered that kind of thing, Comrade Commander. I just want to go home and take care of my wife and children after the war is over. I owe them a lot because of this war. I want my children to live in a safe place. Growing up in my father’s family is probably my ideal.”

"Promote me to commander? Let me command a tank alone? Can I do this? Comrade Commander."

"Let's go! Let's go quickly! Don't let everyone be unable to leave!"

Scenes from the past flashed through Malashenko's mind like a slideshow, with his eyes slightly closed. The bits and pieces that Nikolai left in his memory are still complete and clear to this day. But the numb soul covered with bruises can no longer recall the heart-wrenching feeling and what it felt like.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have sent him to command a tank. Changing tanks is only a minor condition."

Iushkin, who was sitting outside the turret, did not reply immediately. Instead, he held a cigarette in his mouth and raised his head to stare at the distant sky. The sky above Stalingrad, which was filled with thick smoke, still could not see the complete sun under the blue sky.

"Have you told his family about Nikolai?"

The top cover of the turret was opened outwards. Malashenko, who was sitting in the turret, could see Iushkin sitting next to the turret. When he asked this question, there was a trace of imperceptible sadness and touch on his face. , as if saying this sentence itself would make him feel uneasy and in pain.

"I don't know. This matter has been left to Comrade Political Commissar. He is more professional than you and me in this matter. I don't think we have the courage to tell the truth."

Relying on the armor on his back, Malashenko regained his composure from his contemplation and cheered up again.

People who are immersed in the memories of the past cannot move towards the future, and Malashenko knows this very well.

The dead can never come back to life. The living must continue to move forward with sad memories and leftover responsibilities and inheritances. It is so simple to respect the deceased.

Dila—ZiZiZi—

After repeatedly debugging the radio station at hand, Malashenko finally found a suitable channel. After confirming that the connection was correct, Malashenko immediately pressed the call button on the microphone in his hand, put it to his mouth and spoke.

"Can you hear the call of the golden bear? Please reply."

The temporary blind tone from the wireless transmitter lasted for a while. Malashenko, who was a little impatient, mistakenly thought that he had tuned the wrong channel, and was about to reach out to fiddle with the control panel and fine-tune it. Suddenly a familiar voice came from the microphone speaker.

"I heard you very clearly. This is the giant bear's den. How is the progress on your side?"

Even if he couldn't see the other person's face from a long distance, Malashenko could be sure that the person talking to him at this moment was none other than Petrov, the political commissar who stayed behind at the brigade headquarters and was responsible for coordinating the overall work.

Hearing the familiar voice of Comrade Political Commissar again made Malashenko, who had just fucked a foot, couldn't help but feel happy. After every battle, he was still alive to hear those familiar voices, which can be regarded as the best reward for victory in the battle.

"Everything is going well on our side. The expected advancement goal has been completed. This place is now ours. If there are no problems, I plan to continue to lead the team forward. I feel that our brigade has the hope of being the first to defeat Paulus. Damn it, this is a great honor."

"Oh, I almost forgot, how are the respective situations of Lavrinenko and Kulbalov? Have you contacted them?"

As the war continues to progress smoothly, the frontline brigade headquarters of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Brigade can now be located only a few kilometers away from the attacking troops. And as the troops continued to advance smoothly, they changed positions from time to time to keep up with the progress.

At this point in the war, there was no longer any need to worry about the possibility of a counterattack by the lingering German troops. The German flies in the sky had been suppressed by the superior Soviet annihilation aviation unit and turned into an erratic guerrilla force.

With the air and ground advantages under control, there is nothing wrong with locating the brigade headquarters so close to the front line. This was done after discussion between Malashenko, political commissar Petrov, and their brigade leadership team. decision.

There is another advantage to locating the brigade headquarters closer to the front.

Malashenko's command vehicle has a dedicated high-power radio station, which allows him to directly communicate with the political commissar Petrov in the rear. This efficient communication method of instant contact is much better than the troublesome radio station, but the disadvantage is that the signal is sometimes not very good or exceeds the communication range.

This is a common occurrence in Stalingrad, a city with scorched earth ruins and complex terrain.

Malashenko, who was holding a microphone in his hand, did not wait too long. The voice of political commissar Petrov on the other end soon sounded again.