Chapter 89 Platform Interlude

When the train whistle sounded on the train platform shrouded in starlight, Malashenko and his group of five people, carrying their own luggage, finally arrived at the platform at the last moment while hurrying slowly.

Although Malashenko had his own plans in mind, he agreed to Lieutenant Iushkin's request and agreed to let him join his crew to report on the Smolensk front line.

However, Second Lieutenant Iushkin, who was injured when his car was destroyed in the last village ambush, was not life-threatening, but his right leg, which was the most seriously injured, was undoubtedly unable to support him in walking alone.

In view of this, the five-person tank crew had to free up one person to support Iushkin's injured right side along the way. Although there was a special car to transport passengers all the way from the station to the train platform, the bumpy journey to the departure platform after getting off the bus still ended up wasting a lot of time.

As the most important and dependent transportation hub in the hands of the Soviet army, which had an underdeveloped road network and could even be said to be extremely primitive, the railway stations in the defense zones affiliated to various front armies in the western Soviet Union had been attacked by the Germans since the very beginning of Operation Barbarossa. The Air Force's focus was targeted and suffered heavy losses, to the point where it was once completely paralyzed and unable to operate.

Even more than half a month after the outbreak of the war, the Soviet army had dispatched a considerable number of engineering troops and rear militia teams and even mobilized citizens to carry out urgent repairs, but now they had just stepped into the train with a group of four of their subordinates. Malashenko's eyes on the platform were still full of mess.

There are still dark smoke stains left after the last air raid explosion on the railway tracks with obvious traces of temporary connection. There are many places on the waiting platform paved with bricks that have been filled with earth and gravel to fill the craters. Traces, even on the rain shelter under which Malashenko is standing, there is a neat trace left after being swept by the machine gun barrage of the German fighter planes.

"It only takes a few minutes to drop bombs and use machine guns to fire, but it will take years or even longer to repair the wounds caused by the war. I really hope this can all end soon."

Turning his head to stare at the busy crowds of soldiers and civilians around him and the traumatic scenes left over from the war, Malashenko, who had seen everything but kept it in mind, was about to turn back to greet his comrades who were a little slower. As he was about to board the car, a figure with two armed guards behind him quickly walked up to Malashenko and interrupted what he was about to say.

"Comrade, I am familiar with everyone here, but I have never seen your face. Can you show me your ID?"

Malashenko, who was interrupted from his thoughts, turned his head and looked in the direction of the voice after hearing the voice. The image of a young Soviet officer in the uniform of an infantry lieutenant appeared in his field of vision.

Looking at the lieutenant officer in front of him who was holding out his right hand and waiting for him to hand over relevant documents, he knew that after the outbreak of the Great Patriotic War, it was not unusual for the intensity of interrogation to be increased in places with dense crowds and high mobility such as train stations.

Malashenko, who was already wearing the regular uniform of a major officer in the Soviet tank force, simply did not open his mouth to embarrass the lieutenant. Then without saying a word, he took out from his coat pocket what he had received from political commissar Petrov before leaving. The new certificate arrived and was handed over to the lieutenant's waiting hand hanging in mid-air.

After taking the military officer's ID card handed over by Malashenko, he immediately silently flipped through it quickly using the light of the platform next to him. When the young lieutenant realized that the person in front of him was a man who had just been promoted due to merit. After the tank major, a word of extreme respect mixed with admiration immediately blurted out from his mouth to Malashenko.

"I'm sorry to cause trouble to you, Comrade Major, but I hope you can understand my work. These Germans are really bad. Many of their spies and secret agents like to sneak into our country quietly at night in disguise. Explosives were planted on the platforms and trains to carry out sabotage operations, and we had no choice but to increase our patrols against strangers.”

After reaching out to take the military officer's ID card that the young lieutenant returned with both hands, he did not choose to continue to dwell on such insignificant details. Malashenko, who was quite curious about the situation of this train station, took out a packet of his own just now from his jacket pocket. After receiving the soft pack of cigarettes specially provided for officers, he immediately took out one and handed it to the lieutenant in front of him before speaking softly again.

"This is the first time I have been to a place like the train station since the war broke out, Lieutenant. Can you tell me how you are doing recently? I see that the damage caused by those Germans here seems to be serious."

After witnessing Malashenko's actions just now, he immediately reached out slightly sluggishly and took the soft-packed cigarette that only senior military officers were qualified to distribute. The young lieutenant, who had been relying on those hand-rolled Mahe tobaccos for a long time, almost forgot the last time he smoked this rare and good product, and immediately took it from Malashenko with a look of joy on his face. After smoking a cigarette, he spoke.

"Who says it's not, Comrade Major. Those German guys had planes coming to the train station almost every day a while ago. We here have no choice but to be bombed during the day and repair it at night, every day. Even transporting the wounded and transporting supplies The trains can only leave at dusk or at night, which is really a headache.”

"I don't know where these stupid Nazi invaders borrowed the courage to invade our Soviet Union. Humph, they are such a bunch of overestimating their capabilities! It won't be long before we can push the front back to Germany. That's for sure!"

Looking at the confident and disdainful expression on the face of the young lieutenant in front of him who was puffing away at the cigarette with a cigarette between his fingers, Malashenko, as a future time traveler, naturally knew the confidence in this lieutenant's mouth. The words will eventually be realized one day, but this "soon" may take several years to realize.

Although the railway station, which is an important transportation hub for transporting frontline military supplies, has an explicit order to ban fireworks, Malashenko, as a mid-level officer, and the young lieutenant, who was originally a military controller on the platform, intentionally or unintentionally chose to ban fireworks directly. Ignore it.

After all, no one knows whether they will still be alive after smoking this cigarette. The Red Army soldiers who fought bloody battles and risked their lives on the front line should always have some privileges.

Just as Malashenko was about to say goodbye and board the car after a small chat with the young lieutenant in front of him, another figure hurriedly came calling Malashenko's name.