Chapter 1082 Ula! It’s time to eat!

Since it was just in time for dinner, Malashenko suggested to get some food to fill his stomach first, and then chat while eating.

After all, no one can say for sure when it comes to fighting. Although Malashenko is 80% sure that it will be difficult for the Germans to launch a large-scale group attack this afternoon, it is only 80%, not completely sure.

So in line with the principle of being on the safe side, when it’s time to eat, it’s best to seize the time and eat immediately, lest the Germans really go crazy and start a sudden attack, and you end up holding a lunch box in your hand on the way to get a meal. Really If this is the case, be prepared to throw away your lunch box and go to war hungry. Even Comrade Brigade Commander is no exception.

However, although Major Varosha agreed with Malashenko's suggestion of chatting while eating, he originally thought that Malashenko would sit in the brigade headquarters in silence, waiting for the orderlies to bring him the meal. Major Losa really didn't expect that Malashenko actually took out a lunch box and a set of tableware from his small canvas bag, and then waved directly towards him.

"Let's go, why are you still hanging there? Come and line up with me to get food."

Major Varosha did not bring a lunch box with him. Malashenko, who touched the stubble on his chin, thought for a moment, and then suddenly had an idea and found a "good substitute" for Major Varosha using local materials. : A brand new helmet that no one is said to have used.

In fact, it is not uncommon to eat and drink with helmets. Both Malashenko and Varosha have done this before: in Stalingrad, where it is considered good to save a life.

Malashenko had no idea where he had left the kettle and lunch box. He had no other choice but to dig out the food with his black hands that looked like he had been digging briquettes for three days and nights.

After going back and forth for a while, Malashenko couldn't find any good substitute, so he simply took off a blood-free helmet from the German's corpse, took it to the water, washed and rinsed it casually. , just use this thing to drink water and eat.

But it only comes in handy if there is food that can be packed in a lunch box. Most of the time Malashenko could only eat dry bread during his stay in Stalingrad, day after day. There were only a handful of fresh, hot meals eaten during the campaign.

Major Varosha's experience is similar to Malashenko's. They were both fighting in a dark place during the Battle of Stalingrad. For some reason, they lost the kettle and lunch box hanging on their buttocks. Even if they think about it afterwards, I can't remember exactly when I lost it, and I have no memory at all.

For these two men who had also experienced the purgatory of life and death in Stalingrad, there was really no problem in using their helmets to drink water and eat, even if they were used by dead people.

What? You ask, are you not afraid of having dirty things on your body and giving you nightmares in the middle of the night?

Sorry, communist fighters are not afraid of the devil. If the ghost dares to come, Malashenko will dare to kill him with a hammer and sickle. Finally, he will use 122 cannons to wipe out even the scum left. That's it. thorough.

The closest cooking point to the brigade headquarters was the Second Tank Battalion. Malashenko went out without thinking too much and led Varosha over there while chatting. After walking on the grass, the aroma of food could be smelled. Floated over.

"Ah! This smells so good, Comrade Brigadier! I can smell it, it's the aroma of milk and cereal!"

Malashenko didn't quite believe it when he heard this. He thought, "Why the hell are you the only one who smells it? I can't smell anything with my nose?" I don’t have a fucking cold. ơɱ

But when the two brothers actually arrived at the cooking point, Malashenko, whose eyes were almost wide-eyed, had to accept that the big pot in the field kitchen trailer was full of boiling things. A steaming pot of milky cereal.

"Why is your nose so sharp? Why couldn't I smell it just now?"

"Ah, this"

Major Varosha, who was looking into the pot, was unable to answer the question for a while. Malashenko, who was a little depressed, didn't say anything more in the end, assuming that Varosha's nose was really better than his own. Make too much work.

The two good friends Malashenko and Varosha murmured to each other, but the cook who was in charge of cooking the porridge was not so calm and suddenly became interested.

"Hey, comrade brigade commander! Why did you come to pick up the food in person? I can send someone to deliver it to you, so you don't have to come in person."

As soon as he heard someone calling him, Malashenko looked around and immediately waved to the fat uncle in charge of the spoon. Uncle Ivan, who cooked delicious food in the entire brigade, was the one in front of him.

"Is there anything else to eat? Uncle Ivan, like meat?"

Not only does Uncle Ivan cook delicious food, but he is also a chubby and good-looking man who smiles all day long like Maitreya Buddha. If a young comrade goes to Uncle Ivan because he is hungry and cannot sleep in the middle of the night, he will probably turn on a small stove secretly. Once again, I was able to get two pieces of black bread from Uncle Ivan that would make me fall asleep with a full stomach, and I returned home satisfied.

After a lot of back and forth, the reputation of Ivan, the cook squad leader of the 2nd Tank Battalion, as a good old man spread, and the young soldiers were happy to call this good old squad leader, who was almost the same generation as their fathers, Uncle Ivan.

The title was replaced by the name more often. Some other battalion soldiers who didn't know what Uncle Ivan's name was also followed suit. It was simple and convenient anyway, and Uncle Ivan was also happy for everyone to call him this way, which seemed friendly.

To be honest, Malashenko didn't know what Uncle Ivan's real name was, because it was too long, and he forgot it soon after reading it once in the report. I just remember that there was an uncle Ivan who cooked delicious food in the logistics kitchen of the second battalion. I even made a special trip to have a meal with him a few times. By the way, I became familiar with this uncle Ivan, so that I could get some delicious food over in the future.

It was okay and friendly for other soldiers to call themselves Uncle Ivan, but Comrade Malashenko, the brigade commander, joined in calling him that. At first, Uncle Ivan was so frightened that he almost couldn't even do anything. degree.

But after several reminders and persuasion to no avail, Malashenko remained the same, calling him "Uncle Ivan" casually.

There was so much yelling that in the end even Uncle Ivan was too embarrassed to remind the brigade commander anymore, so he just left it like that. After all, it wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

Hearing Comrade Brigade Commander ask about the food he had prepared, Uncle Ivan, who finally waited until Comrade Commander happened to come to inspect at lunch time, immediately became interested and hurriedly extended his hand to greet Malashin with that honest smile on his face. Co moved to the side next to another field kitchen trailer.

As soon as the lid of the thermos bucket was opened, Malashenko, who was holding the lunch box in his hand, immediately smelled a strong aroma of meat. This happy smell was far beyond the cold canned Yankee luncheon meat. , just smelling it makes people drool.

"Potato beef stew, comrade brigade commander! Enough for the whole battalion to eat meat. Our brigade's ingredients are getting better day by day. It used to give me a headache when cooking, but it's completely different now!"

Indeed, since holding the honorary title of Supreme Leader of the Soviet Union, the changes in Malashenko's unit, which was gloriously promoted to the 1st Stalin Guards Heavy Tank Brigade, are undoubtedly visible to the naked eye.

These changes are not only reflected in the issue of weapons and equipment and personnel replenishment, but also the food provided is getting better day by day. Basically, one or two meat meals are guaranteed every week.

If there is a tough battle to be fought, the food will be better. This is a political task personally issued by Political Commissar Petrov: the logistics and cooking troops of each combat camp must ensure that the soldiers can eat as much as they can before fighting the enemy. The most delicious food under the conditions, even after returning from the war.

Malashenko, who felt like he was about to throw himself into the bucket, could no longer hold back his saliva. He immediately opened the lid of the lunch box without saying a word and handed over his meal.

Varosha, who was holding a round steel helmet in his arms, didn't even drink the porridge anymore, and directly offered his own helmet-style lunch box with both hands, finishing the damn meat first.

Next, the two brothers Malashenko and Varosha, whose eyes were shining brightly, saw Uncle Ivan holding up the helmet in his hand with the same smile on his face. extra large rice spoon. The handle of the wooden spoon alone was as thick as the pipe of a German Sanqi cannon. Obviously, this scene could no longer be described by the word "exhilarating".