Chapter 693: Meal on the Road

There were many heroes who died in the Great Patriotic War, but to be honest Malashenko did not want to be one of them.

He still has such a beautiful wife waiting for him to go back and have sex with her. Wouldn't it be too much of a loss to spend time in Stalingrad like this?

Malashenko, who was thinking a lot about the problem, finally tried to break his head, but he did not come up with any good solutions or results.

As a high-end art in war, tactics can indeed play a very important role at certain times and even turn the tide of the war.

However, the effective implementation of any tactics must be based on the situation where the strength of the two armies is almost the same, and at least they must be able to basically compete locally.

Is the Taliban's guerrilla warfare awesome in later generations? Awesome.

Does the US military have a headache against the Taliban? Headache.

How many American troops have been killed by the Taliban? Corpses can form a reinforcement group.

But even such a seemingly invincible Taliban is just a guerrilla warfare force with a hammer and a stick in the west. It can make the Americans who are fighting away from home feel acclimatized. After more than ten years, they have no choice but to give in to the Taliban and sign a peace agreement. , just preparing to exit gracefully.

Once on the frontal battlefield, the U.S. military, which has the strongest military strength in the world, can kick the shit out of the Taliban. If it can't be beaten, it will be considered clean. Victory limited to a highly flexible tactical framework such as guerrilla warfare does not represent the Taliban. Really better than the US military.

The dejected Malashenko suddenly felt that his situation was inexplicably similar to that of the Taliban.

It's just that the Taliban hiding in the ravines can at least fight guerrilla warfare with the US military in circles. Malashenko, who was framed to death by a rigid adherence to an order, was confined to this train station. He could only counterattack and advance but could not retreat even half a step. Either retreating or being defeated is equivalent to death.

The German army with extremely amazing offensive energy is like the US military in later generations. When Malashenko, who was more powerful than the Taliban, lamented that he did not even have the chance to hide in the city and fight guerrilla warfare with the German army, he could not help but feel that he might really do it this time. It's cold.

It is not that Malashenko did not think about the problem of reinforcements, but the 13th Guards Infantry Division, which was supposed to come to support the battle at the railway station and existed as the main force in history, suddenly added Malashenko and the 13th Guards Infantry Division out of thin air. In this different historical trajectory of a heavy tank breakthrough regiment, Chuikov directly transferred all of them to participate in the battle to recover Mamayev Heights.

When Malashenko heard this answer from the other end of the phone on the emergency call for help earlier, he was so breathless that he couldn't breathe and fainted.

"What a bastard! You transferred all the original main force to other places just because I came here. Your mother wouldn't do that!"

Malashenko didn't know how powerful the German offensive force entrenched in front of him was, but judging from the current combat situation, it should be at least two divisions, which is equivalent to more than ten times his own overall strength.

After chatting with Commissar Petrov for a long time, he could not come up with any good solution. Malashenko, who looked a little haggard, finally cheered up and returned to his car, hanging the tank cap next to the seat. He clasped his head again and assumed a posture ready for battle.

Iushkin, who was grabbing the can in his hand and quickly filling his stomach, noticed Malashenko's return. Before he could swallow the watery beans in his mouth, he turned his head and whimpered to Malashenko. arrive.

"Have you eaten? Do you want some?"

While attending a meeting with Commissar Petrov, Malashenko, who had not eaten anything since morning, felt hungry.

He raised his head and glanced at the can of fish soup peas in Iushkin's hand. Smelling the smell, Malashenko felt a little upset in his stomach and raised his right hand to cover his nose, as if it was worse than being exposed to the scorching sun. The smell of dead bodies is even more suffocating.

"You can keep it for yourself. I really don't understand why you always have trouble with fish. You have to season everything with fish products. Don't you think the smell is unpleasant?"

Malashenko, who was muttering, complained about Iushkin's poor recipe, while reaching out and pulling out a private can of luncheon meat from the storage basket in the turret.

This kind of Spam luncheon meat, which originated in the United States, is not popular among American soldiers, but it is a very rare delicacy among the Red Army who received aid from the Lend-Lease Act.

Many Red Army soldiers who ate bread every day and had a taste for it were eager to get a box of this American canned lunch meat, even if they exchanged it for cigarettes or vodka.

Malashenko, who traveled back in time and was still a native of China, has eaten all kinds of delicacies from all over the country. Although he doesn't have much dislike for Spam luncheon meat, he definitely doesn't like it.

It’s just that in the current situation where he eats bread every day and occasionally drinks hot soup, a can of Spam luncheon meat that has been treasured for a long time is the best thing Malashenko can do to reward himself. Good idea.

"Hey, damn it, do I really want to eat a can of American luncheon meat as a road trip meal? This is too fucking ridiculous. I want to eat a bowl of Xi'an mutton steamed buns."

Malashenko, who held the can in his hand, was about to find a dagger or something to cut open the shell of the can and eat it. Iush, who was staring at the can with a green light even outside, never thought about it. Jin swallowed directly.

Mumble——

"Comrade Commander, can you give me some points?"

""

A surprised Malashenko looked at Iushkin, whose eyes were shining, and then at the American canned luncheon meat in his hand. He shook his head helplessly and smiled, then took it from the pocket next to his seat. He pulled out another private treasure that he had just found and had even forgotten existed before: a half-drunk bottle of vodka.

"Don't let Comrade Political Commissar know. Come on, let's take a small sip each, quietly."

About two minutes later, Malashenko, with a can in one hand and black bread in the other and a bottomed vodka bottle in his crotch, was enjoying what might be his last "road meal." hour.

A violent explosion came from the south side of the station, but it was like thunder across the sky. Malashenko, who was enjoying the food, was so frightened that he subconsciously threw out half the box of cans in his hand on the spot.

"What's going on? Where's the artillery fire? Are the Germans attacking again?"

Iushkin, who held the chewed luncheon meat in his mouth before he could swallow it, listened carefully. After being temporarily deafened by the K5 train cannon last time, his hearing recovery was obviously better than that of Malashenko. Iushkin then opened his mouth and said in surprise.

"No, Comrade Commander, the explosion came from the south of the station!"