Chapter 49 Eyes of Blood

With his trembling right hand, he almost used the maximum strength to open the hatch above his head. Malashenko, who had been commanding his command T3476 tank and had been fighting with all his strength on the battlefield for a whole day, was already My whole body ached and my strength was exhausted.

The bloody wound on his right eye that was still bleeding due to neglect of treatment made Malashenko look in such a bad state as he staggered out of the turret.

"Sir, please be careful! Oh my God, medic, where is the medic!? Someone come quickly!"

Following Malashenko's footsteps, Kirill climbed out of the turret and jumped off the tank in a deft manner of three steps and two steps. Kirill knew that his commander's injury was very bad and could not wait any longer. He immediately stepped forward, raised his equally exhausted arms to support the almost shaky Malashenko, and immediately shouted for help from the surrounding positions.

Most of the remaining troops of the Soviet 20th Tank Division, who had been fighting for a whole day in the brutal armored strangulation that burned steel and blood, were as exhausted as Malashenko's crew.

These Soviet tank crews who were lucky enough to survive the fierce battle during the day were either physically exhausted or suffered from internal and external injuries. It was obvious that these comrades who could not even save themselves when crossing the river did not care to respond to the basics. Lear yelled and came forward to check the situation.

Lifting his seemingly extremely heavy head with force, Malashenko looked around at his own starting position. Knowing that his comrades were also in poor condition and needed to rest, Malashenko did not ask for more, and instead used force to hold on. After straightening his back, he immediately spoke to Kirill who was supporting him beside him.

"I'm fine, Kirill. I just scratched a piece of skin on my eye. It will be fine after a sleep. Don't continue shouting here. Don't you see that everyone is exhausted physically and mentally and exhausted?"

"Can"

Regarding Malashenko's intermittent and somewhat feeble remarks, Kirill, who looked at the pale face of his direct commander and knew that he must be holding on, strengthened his belief.

"No, sir, I can't just watch you go without medical treatment. If you persist, I will take you to a field hospital right now."

Malashenko, whose whole body was exhausted, half of his face was bloody and pale, knew that he could no longer resist Kirill, who was in much better physical condition than him. He increasingly felt as if the wound on his right eye was being sprinkled with water. Malashenko, who was burning as hot as chili oil, simply gave up and staggered towards the temporary field hospital set up behind the Soviet 20th Tank Division's position with Kirill's support.

Although preparations for the field hospital built behind the 20th Tank Division's position had begun before the Soviet army launched its attack, this division-level field hospital was still a temporary medical facility built after a hasty march. Both the rescue capacity and the number of injured patients are far inferior to those of regular military hospitals in cities and towns.

With one hand on Kirill's shoulder, Malashenko opened the door of the nearest tent against the backdrop of the sunset and stepped inside. Before he could, the blood from the wound on his eyelids seeped into the corner of Malashenko's mouth. When he spoke, Kirill, who was breathing heavily and excited, immediately took the lead and shouted loudly at the busy Soviet medical staff in front of him.

"Doctor, I need a doctor! My commander is seriously injured. He is an officer, a captain! Someone come and save him!"

Perhaps it was Kirill's words that emphasized Malashenko's status as an officer that played a role.

After hearing the loud shouting from Kirill's mouth, a Soviet military doctor who was originally directing the nursing staff to carry the wounded to the operating table immediately turned his head after hearing the sound and glanced at the blood on Malashenko's face. The miserable military doctor did not delay at all, and immediately walked quickly towards Malashenko with long strides.

"Captain, can you still speak? If so, could you describe your injuries to me?"

"Okay, doctor. I am Captain Malashenko, commander of the 1st Battalion and 1st Company of the 1st Tank Regiment of our division. The wound on my right eye was caused by accidentally hitting the metal part of the main gun sight during the battle. "Originally I thought the problem was not serious, but I don't know why the blood keeps flowing intermittently. Please help me deal with it, doctor."

After hearing the short but detailed description from Malashenko's mouth, the military doctor did not say any more words. He reached out to the pocket of his coat and then held a small medical flashlight in his hand.

Click——

With the soft sound of pressing a button and a dazzling bright light, it shined under Malashenko's eyelids and lit up his eyeballs. He put his forehead forward and squinted his eyes under his glasses to carefully observe the horse for a few seconds. The military doctor behind Rashenko's wound resolutely turned around and passed by.

"Lisa, prepare a chair and a set of sewing tools, quick!"

About a minute later, Malashenko, who was supported by Kirill, followed the military doctor's instructions and sat on the "operating table chair" specially prepared for him. Malashenko, who could still feel the heat slowly surging in the corner of his eyes, did not close his eyes and wait for the operation. Instead, he raised his right arm and gently stopped him, who was about to put the needle and sterile cotton. The arriving military doctor.

"Doctor, before the surgery, I want to know what's going on with my right eye. Is it serious?"

While holding the surgical scissors and alcohol sterilized cotton in his hands, he listened carefully to the questions Malashenko said. The military doctor, who was wearing a pair of round-rimmed glasses and looked to be in his late fifties, immediately showed no sign of anything. Concealedly revealed the truth to Malashenko.

"Captain, the upper eyelid of your right eye was cut by a sharp object, leaving a fifteen-centimeter-long gash. The wound was not shallow. This is why you feel like you are bleeding all the time."

"As far as the severity of the injury is concerned, the injury you suffered is not optimistic, but it is not that serious. As long as the disinfection, cleaning and suturing are completed and confirmed to be correct, you will be able to remove the stitches and return to the battlefield in about a month at most."

Listening carefully to the words coming from under the thick white mask on the face of the military doctor, Malashenko thought for a moment that his ears had heard wrongly, and was stunned for a moment. Then an extremely surprised and unbelievable word came from The words came out instantly without any hesitation.

"What did you say? About a month!?"