Steel Soviet Union

In the first armored encounter, the independent First Heavy Tank Breakthrough Battalion led by Malashenko, who adopted head-on head-on tactics to challenge the Germans, suffered considerable losses.

But thanks to the Finnish-made Somi submachine guns captured from the SS Reich Division logistics troops, after abandoning the vehicle, they relied on the wreckage to beat the Soviet tank soldiers on the opposite side who also abandoned the vehicle and the German armored soldiers beat them unexpectedly. There were not many casualties.

"More than a year ago, I was almost swept away by this junk in the ice and snow in Finland. Who would have thought that now I would save my life from those Germans with this thing? I really don't know what to do with this thing. Say thank you or something.”

Holding the almost burned-out cigarette in his hand and puffing away the smoke, a commander of a red army tank without a vehicle who was sitting in the truck compartment of the maintenance company patted the Somi submachine gun in his arms and complained about this dramatic and exciting thing. The helpless reality.

"No matter what happened in the past, at least these babies are our partners now. Perhaps this can be regarded as a kind of surrender to communism."

Although everyone chatting in the truck compartment had almost different opinions, there was no doubt that the Somi submachine gun's excellent performance had won over all the Red Army tank soldiers in the compartment who had saved their lives from the battlefield. They like it.

He raised his hand to flick away the cigarette butt that was about to burn his fingers and was about to speak when a noisy shout suddenly sounded outside the truck compartment.

"Oh, what are you shouting outside? Koshkin, can't you even tell the specific model of a Kraut tank by the sound of its gunfire? It's your turn now."

Turning a deaf ear to the nonsense of his comrades, another Red Army tank commander named Koshkin immediately put down the Somi submachine gun he was carefully maintaining and listened carefully.

"The voice came from the front of the column. It seemed to be shouting that there are new tanks that can be obtained, and those who cannot receive them can only be infantry?"

The silent car seemed to have been suspended, and the drop of a needle could be heard. A group of Red Army tank soldiers with dull faces were stunned for a moment and then ran out as if they had been bitten by a wolf.

Soviet tanks on the battlefield would be targeted by German anti-tank guns and tanks on the ground, and Stukas in the sky would often come to dive bomb them.

But even so, the survival rate of staying in a tank protected by strong armor and sharp guns is still much higher than that of an ordinary infantryman. Needless to say, which one is stronger between flesh and blood and cold armor, no one can survive. The basic principle of being willing to die drove these Red Army tank soldiers, who had already experienced nine deaths, to run forward wildly.

About ten minutes later, when Malashenko, who was commanding his tank crews to receive the new tanks, was about to give the order to leave, Engineer Ivankov, who had already left for a while with an excuse, was here. Time was long overdue again.

"Lieutenant Colonel Malashenko, it's already lunch time. If necessary, you and your troops can stay and have something to eat before leaving. This should not delay the maneuvering schedule of your tank troops."

After hearing Engineer Ivankov's suggestion, he immediately raised his hand, rolled up his sleeves, and looked at the time on the mechanical watch on his wrist. The infantrymen carrying a lot of belongings were about to arrive, and they were assembled and ready to go. It was not an easy task. Malashenko, who was nearly an hour away from the scheduled departure time of the agreed support force, nodded immediately.

"Well, thank you for the invitation, Comrade Ivankov. To be honest, I haven't eaten anything since I opened my eyes in the morning, and my stomach has been ringing with hunger."

Since arriving in Leningrad, they have been eating only the military ration reserves brought by our side from Yelniya. The hard black bread and various cans that can be stored for a long time are almost the entire menu of the independent first heavy tank breakthrough battalion. The tank crews who were either supporting friendly forces in battle or on the way to support them had nothing to do with making fires and cooking. It was good enough to just nibble something in the tank and drink a few sips of water to fill their stomachs.

I have never had a hot meal in Leningrad, so I can't help but be curious about what kind of food I can eat in this city that has been besieged from three sides by the German army on land and is almost starving.

The curiosity and doubts in Malashenko's heart did not last long. About five minutes later, a standard Russian aunt who came with a hand-held dining cart began to greet these people with a steaming steam and warm eyes. The Red Army boys who were sitting in the dining car had already started to see green light in their eyes.

"Hi, boys! Today's meal is specially prepared for you by the order of Engineer Ivankov. It includes your favorite meat. Come and try it."

Malashenko, who was also hungry as if his stomach was on fire, quickly stepped forward and was the first to get to the uncovered dining car and take a look into the steaming vat. He saw a pot of stewed potatoes and meat. The alluring color and appetizing aroma teased the stomachs of everyone present.

"Thank you, Comrade Lenin! I can't remember how long it has been since I had potato stew!"

"Oh, I can't stand it anymore! This smells so delicious. Give me some! Mom! Just looking at it like this is torture for me!"

"Don't squeeze me! I was obviously here first! Did the instructor at the tank school only teach you how to jump in line?"

A large vat full of potato stew with an attractive aroma was all eaten in just two minutes amidst shouting and noise.

The Red Army tank soldiers, whose mouths had long faded away, even scooped up the potatoes and meat and didn't even let go of the soup base. They directly picked up the kettles hanging on their waists and filled up the thick broth on the spot. After finding a place to sit down, I held black bread in one hand and dipped the broth in the other, and stuffed it into my mouth crazily. I was so busy that I didn't even bother to raise my head.

He sat down on a solid steel ingot with a heavy lunch box in his hand and began to taste the delicious food. Malashenko, who was so hungry that his chest was pressed against his back, picked up a spoon and directly put the lunch box to his lips and ate without caring. Lavrinenko on the side also held a lunch box and rubbed the corner of the steel ingot and sat next to him.

"Eat slowly. The front page of Pravda may publish the news tomorrow that the Red Army's top tank hero choked to death on potato stew. The Germans will laugh so hard that they don't even have the strength to reload the shells."

Although he already had some resistance to Lavrinenko's talkative words, Malashenko, who was caught off guard by this remark, still managed to spit out the contents of his mouth.

"Bah, cough, cough. If you eat your food honestly, no one will treat you as a mute!"