Chapter 1170

Malashenko was originally a little curious as to why it had been so long, but the fascist bastards on the opposite side had not yet come over.

Now it seems obvious that the answer is right in front of us.

"Oh, what do you think I am? Do you think I am Vlasov's second best? Fuck you!"

He complained like this in his heart, but Malashenko still planned to go there in person, at least to see what kind of favorable conditions these fascist bastards offered him, and to take the opportunity to open his eyes, just as a matter of fact. One last chance to have some fun before dying.

Malashenko returned to the turret and picked up the battle-damaged Somi submachine gun placed next to the seat, but saw Kirill, Iushkin and even Seryosha looking at him in unison. After thinking about it, he waved his hand directly without much hesitation.

"Come together and take you to a good show."

Along the way, Malashenko followed Oleg's lead and thought as he walked, constantly guessing what kind of military rank the Germans would send to meet him and what conditions they would offer him. If he behaved "ignorantly" What kind of reaction will the Germans react if you say "praise".

When Malashenko actually arrived at the dilapidated hut pointed by Oleg, Malashenko saw at a glance that Commissar Petrov was coming out of the door. He had obviously talked about something, and he immediately hurried away without saying a word. He went up and came to Comrade Political Commissar.

"How is it? What did these fascist lackeys say?"

Unlike Malashenko's somewhat curious expression, Commissar Petrov, who had just talked to several people in the room, smiled lightly.

"You may find it unbelievable, but those German guys know your name. They came here for you by name and wanted to see you by name."

"Before meeting you in person, I don't think they would talk about terms. The first thing they said when they met was that they were ready to be killed by us, but with the commander of the Second SS Armored Corps, How Searle conveyed the advice that we had better not do this.”

After Commissar Petrov finished speaking, Malashenko, who had never expected that the situation would be like this, was immediately amused.

"What do you mean? I'm a celebrity among the Germans?"

"You can understand it that way. I won't deny it, but you'd better ask them yourself."

"Hey"

Malashenko has seen many Germans doing work, but this is the first time he has seen such a strange way of doing work.

After taking the transcript of the inquiry from the political commissar Petrov and briefly looking at it, Malashenko, who really couldn't find any useful information in it, could only shake his head and return the folder to the political commissar. He turned around and pushed open the door.

"We have always hoped to see you in person, and it seems that you are more capable of fighting than the rumors say, Colonel Malashenko.

The moment we opened the door to meet each other, you looked at me and I looked at you. Malashenko couldn't help but laugh after being praised by the German guy.

Malashenko doesn't think that his current state of being a fugitive can be worthy of such praise from the Germans. Just smile when the weasel greets the chicken. It's fucking weird to have any good intentions.

"Who sent you here? Manstein, Holt, Hausser, or maybe your division commander?"

The Germans spoke to Malashenko in slightly broken Russian, but when Malashenko spoke, he spoke German that sounded quite pure and unobstructed. In addition, there was something worth pondering in his words. The content of Fan's hints, when combined, really surprised the four SS officers behind the table.

"There are rumors that the hero of the Soviet Union, Colonel Malashenko, speaks fluent German. Now it seems that those who don't believe it look like fools. Your German is very good, Colonel Malashenko, which is worthy of admiration."

The first person to stand up and flatter him just now was the SS officer at the head and center, and now it was the same guy who continued to flatter him.

Malashenko, whose smile never faded from his face, looked up and down at the person in front of him. This guy's military rank was unexpectedly that of a first-class assault brigade captain. The few followers sitting next to him did not have high official ranks. The oldest one was a first-level assault squadron leader.

Malashenko was a little surprised that the SS troops on the opposite side could throw a guy who was equivalent to a lieutenant colonel of the Wehrmacht to persuade them to surrender. This bunch of bastards were so confident that they could get things done? What great benefits did this bring?

Although he was slightly surprised, Malashenko still kept his expression unchanged. With a mysterious smile on his face, he pulled out his chair and sat directly in front of the four SS officers.

"It seems that you are not very popular among your own people, Mr. Captain of the First Class Assault Group. Look, your superior just threw you here to die. He obviously wanted to take this opportunity to get rid of you. My record I can add another head of the SS First Class Assault Squadron to the book. This death is a bit unworthy. You were tricked to death by your own people. How unpopular you must be to be like this. thing?"

On the surface, he looks like a fool, but the soul inside the container is an authentic Chinese.

If we talk about this kind of verbal skills, every one of the idiots who criticize foreigners would be so angry that they would choke to death. Is the classic story about Wang Situ being scolded to death by Zhuge villagers a waste of reputation?

Sure enough, as soon as Malashenko finished speaking, the SS First Class Assault Battalion Captain sitting behind the desk turned dark instantly.

"Mr. Colonel, we are discussing business with you in a very respectful and sincere manner! Please do not vent your personal emotions as a personal insult. This will not do you any good!"

Nothing good for us?

I can go fuck you! Stupid Fahis!

Looking at the first-class assault squadron leader who interrupted midway, Malashenko never paid attention to such a small supporting role, and blurted out his words without thinking.

"Which of the tens of thousands of people standing on the street, riding a bitch and having no money to have an abortion, gave birth to a bastard like you? Didn't the trash who entered the SS through the back door know that his superiors couldn't interrupt the conversation at will? Or should a trash like you not even follow the regulations? Don’t you even deserve to study?”

"you!"

"What are you? Are you here just to quarrel with me? Is your mother a mass producer on an assembly line? Do you dare to compete with me for swearing?"

Although it was expressed in German, the power of the knife stabbing into the heart has not diminished at all.

Major Varosha, who didn't understand what was being said specifically, could tell that something was wrong. He raised his hand and showed off the Bobosha at his waist. He took a step forward. In an instant, there were ten people in the room with the loud sound of guns being loaded. Several Red Army soldiers came forward.

Malashenko, who had no intention of surrendering at all, stood up and came to the table. He bent slightly and came closer. At a distance where spittle could almost fly to the opponent's face, he moved towards the man who interrupted him. The first-level assault squadron leader who spoke put his hands on the table and spoke slowly, word by word.

"Know whose territory you are speaking on now! This is not a place for trash like you to run wild!"