Chapter 975 Singing for You (Repair)

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Regarding what Vatutin described, Malashenko, who did not know many details, could not make more comments or say anything more.

After experiencing a lot, Malashenko has deeply realized the truth that "if you have not personally experienced what others have experienced, you are not qualified to criticize others wantonly from the commanding heights."

Many heart-breaking things that can make life worse than death cannot be forgotten with the passage of time, nor can they be explained and cured with just a few words.

Malashenko, who felt the same way, knew that he was not qualified to say that the major named Orsha was bad or not, just from the fact that "four relatives in his family died in Minsk at the same time."

I just lost Nikolai, a close relative. During that period, I couldn't sleep well almost every night. When I closed my eyes, I could see the past memories mixed with Nikolai playing in front of my eyes.

Even in the middle of the night when everyone is quiet, he will sit up alone and smoke while wiping his tears, trying to control himself not to cry.

That kind of pain, which is more heartbreaking than confining the body and peeling away the skin and bones, Malashenko will never forget it in his life, let alone experience it more times, because it will really destroy a strong man. Tortured to the point of becoming a madman.

Malashenko, who had done what he had to do, didn't say much.

After saying goodbye politely to Vatugin, he saluted and left with Iushkin. Although the tall figure walked slowly as if walking, he did not turn around or hesitate at all.

Vatutin, who had expected Malashenko to say something about this, was a little surprised. He stood at the door of the headquarters, accompanied by guards, staring at Malashenko's retreating back for a long time. , until Comrade Chief of Staff also walked out of the corridor behind him and came to his side.

"Everyone has gone far, what are you still standing here thinking about? Dear comrade commander."

Comrade Chief of Staff may have wanted to liven up the atmosphere, but it was obvious that Vatutin was not brought into the rhythm, and there was no emotion in the words he spoke quietly.

"When I think about what this young man has experienced, I even feel that what is reflected in my eyes is not a young man in his twenties, but a veteran in his forties who has gone through vicissitudes of life. Could this be mine? Illusion?"

After hearing this, the chief of staff looked at the back of Malashenko, who was almost invisible, for a while, then turned to look at the indescribable face of the comrade commander next to him, and the words brewing in his heart quietly followed. He blurted out slowly and silently. perform

"Perhaps, this is what makes him extraordinary, and it also explains why among so many peers, he is the only one who can stand out, and even become a hero of the Soviet Union that you and I must respect."

"Growth requires cruel experience, Comrade Commander. I think Malashenko's experience must be worthy of the honor on his chest, although we don't know what happened to this young man. What do you think?"

With the words of the chief of staff, Vatugin felt as if he had let go of some of his worries. He breathed a long sigh of relief, and when he spoke again, his words were resolute and firm.

"Then let time witness and see where this extraordinary young man will end up."

Malashenko, who returned to the car with Iushkin, also breathed a long sigh of relief.

After arriving at the Front Army Headquarters, I was already busy with all the important business before returning home for vacation.

Next, it was time to deal with some things that I had wanted to do before, but had never had the opportunity or time to do. There was only a small amount of time left before I really left the fateful city of Stalingrad.

"Start, Iushkin!"

"where to?"

When he heard this question, Malashenko visibly paused.

The sun hanging high in the sky has sunk to the distant horizon without knowing when. The last golden afterglow of the day filled the war-torn land here, and it also made Malashenko stare at the sunset in the distance. A hint of hesitation about the final destination.

About ten seconds later, Iushkin, who had been silently watching his comrade, the commander, finally got the answer.

"Send me to the No. 1 train station, and then drive to the political commissar to report to him. Just tell him that I'm fine so he doesn't have to worry and don't look for me everywhere.

It was at this moment that Iushkin saw something unusual in Malashenko's eyes, just like what he had just seen in the eyes of the major named Orsha. Some things are the same.

As time goes by, things change and people change.

Amidst the roar of the engine as Iushkin drove away alone, Malashenko, who was alone, stood on the land where he had fought, staring at the train station in front of him that had begun to clear the ruins, looking over and over carefully. I searched and searched with my eyes wide open.

But no matter what, I can't find the place where Nikolai fell in my memory.

Stalingrad No. 1 Railway Station has long been reduced to ruins by fierce fighting and bombing. Malashenko, carrying a tattered coarse cloth bag in his hand, walked on the ruins with one foot deep and one foot shallow.

Just like a lost old man suffering from Alzheimer's disease who can't find his way home, he went around and around, looking over and over again, among the people who either recognized him or looked confused. I walked under my gaze for a long, long time

The place where Malashenko finally stopped was on a messy ruins that had been buried by empty soil. There was no trace of any tank wreckage.

Malashenko didn't know why, but he could only recognize the characteristics of the original waiting hall of the train station: the broken wall that still retains a trace of the original color was behind Malashenko, and Nikolai collapsed on it. Not far from here

"I'm back, Nikolai. The man you called Comrade Commander all day long is back alive."

Sitting cross-legged, in front of Malashenko there was nothing but rubble and nothing of value.

It was under such dim conditions that Malashenko opened the rag bag in his arms, took out two unopened bottles of vodka and placed them on the ground.

"You keep saying you want to have a good drink with me, but how can we care? My brother. There are so many enemies waiting for us to destroy, and the city in war is waiting for us to defend. We are heroic Red Army soldiers, no Extra time can be wasted on entertainment.”

"Okay now, we have won, Nikolai. Listen to the sound of the wind, even the wind is ringing with the sound of victory. Our comrades, our comrades, the city and people we defended with our lives are singing and dancing, Celebrating the victory, we finally have time to sit down and have a good drink together.”

Holding the opened wine bottle in his hand, Malashenko slowly fell towards the floating soil in front of him. Malashenko, who could help Kirill, who was in poor health, carry more than a dozen artillery shells in one breath, could not even hold the wine bottle. His right hand was shaking.

"You told me that after the war is over, you just want to retire and go home to take care of your wife and children. I promise you like a fool that it will happen one day. When the time comes, I will go back to your home and tell your wife and children in person. My child, Nikolai is a hero. He protected everything he should protect. He faithfully fulfilled his responsibilities and was the best Red Army soldier."

Malashenko, who blew directly into the bottle for the first time in his life, could not feel the bitterness in his throat. The tears mixed with the vodka overflowing from the corner of his mouth flowed into his collar and onto his chest. He smashed the bottle on the ground. But his right hand was still trembling.

"This hand, I used this hand to grab you and drag you on the ground. I thought that as long as I tried my best, I would be able to save you, but I couldn't even save myself! It's here At that last moment, I was still a loser who was saved by you!"

"The gunfire rang out, but I was the one who survived, not you. Who should live? Where is this nonsense? You gave your life to me, but I couldn't save you. Why did you just Do people like this have to live? Do you know the answer? I don't know, no one told me."

No one knows how long the man sitting cross-legged on the pile of floating soil spoke unknown words into the empty air.

The cold moonlight and the stars in the sky illuminated the cold earth. Two empty wine bottles were lying at his feet. Malashenko was burping with wine, and his big painted face stained with tears and muddy stains was still there. Sitting there.

"Remember, I still remember it! That time Kirill played the mouth organ, all of you shouted for me to sing a song to match, especially you. You were the most happy, you slapped the table and shouted, your mouth almost reaching your ears. Rooted.”

"Natalia sings so beautifully, but it's a pity that she's not here. What song do you want to listen to? Let me think about it."

"Hehe, there doesn't seem to be anyone who can sing. How about a song you've never heard before? This is a song that only I have heard."

The cold wind whipped up the crystal snowflakes and howled against the ground. Malashenko sang at the top of his voice, which was not pleasant, but his crying voice floated far, far away with the sound of the wind.

Until a few people who came in a hurry and just got out of the car heard it.

"After experiencing many hardships, laughter and tears, we have finally overcome the obstacles on the road ahead. As for the glory and credit, let us attribute it to God."

"The golden years we once had, let's stay in the ancient songs and the free wind blowing on our faces."

The sound of wind and singing echoed higher and higher above the ruins, and the end point that was destined to be unattainable was right in front of us at this moment.

"For you to stand proudly in the forest of the world! For you, mother of the motherland!"

"We will persevere! For you, mother of the motherland!"

"We will sing and dance in the end! For you, mother of the motherland!"

"Shout "Ula" three times for you! For you, mother of the motherland!"

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

The song that could no longer go on finally turned into a loud cry of despair and sorrow. Malashenko, covering his face with his hands, arched his back and knelt down on the land where he had fought, praying for the love in the cold loneliness. A redemption that can never be obtained.

It was not until he was lifted up from the ground by the one-armed figure who quietly came to him at some point, and was hugged into his arms, and was patted on the back by a generous hand, that the Soviet hero finally felt tired and uncontrollable. Waiting for peace with drunkenness.

That night, Commissar Petrov, Iushkin, Kirill, Seryosha, Lavrinenko, Kulbalov, Karamov, and even Anya and Doctor Karachev.

All those who cared about Malashenko and witnessed that scene stayed up all night.

Iushkin, who accompanied Malashenko through all the stories of the day, was lying on the carpet, with his hands behind his head as a pillow, and quietly looked at the starry sky outside the ceiling after a big hole was blown by the bomb above his head. No words are spoken.

Iushkin will never forget.

It was on this night that I witnessed with my own eyes the scene of two men who were supposed to never shed tears, hugging each other and crying uncontrollably.