Chapter 1935 You Are the Face of the Motherland

Malashenko's M43 tank major general uniform was crumpled like a piece of toilet paper after wiping his butt. When it was pulled out of his luggage bag by Malaashenko, the wrinkled appearance was so wrinkled that Comrade Malokov could not bear to look at it. Read М

"Oh! It is a little wrinkled, but it is still new clothes! I have never worn it since it was issued to me. I can wear it tomorrow morning after hanging it on the hanger. Fortunately, Comrade Political Commissar prepared it for me."

""

Hearing this, Malokov would rather believe that Malashenko was joking with him, but the expression on the other party's face did not mean that. It was obvious that he was serious. At this point, Malokov had to emphasize some things that did not need to be said to Malashenko.

"You can't wear this to the ceremony tomorrow. Look at what it has become."

"What?"

Malashenko didn't come back to his senses for a while. He stared at Malokov with his eyes wide open to make sure that this brother was not joking with him. Then he turned his head and continued to look at the major general's dress spread between his hands. He couldn't find any problem with it and blurted out questioning words.

"What's wrong with this dress? I haven't worn it once. It's pretty good. It's much better than the patched combat uniform I wore on the front line. This is a new dress. Why can't I wear it?"

""

Through eye contact, Malokov once again confirmed that Malashenko was not joking with him or playing dumb. This guy was really too stupid to understand what he meant. God knows how his extremely smart head on the battlefield has become like this now.

If it were the 21st century and there was a smartphone that could send QQ emoticons, Malokov would definitely send a full-on junior version of "Damn it, how did Comrade General become like this!?".

"Look at how wrinkled that dress is! You will be on stage tomorrow to attend the award ceremony, representing the face of the motherland, and you will be photographed as publicity materials, and will be recorded in the history books in the future! Do you want elementary school students in the future to point to the photo and ask the teacher in class: "Why does the great hero General Malashenko wear beggar-like clothes?"

"Oh, let alone the children, if such a photo is spread, the Americans and the British will laugh at us for being so poor that even the uniforms of the heroes of the motherland are second-hand goods picked out of the warehouse and improvised. This is a loss of face for the motherland. Now you should understand why you can't wear it tomorrow?"

""

Malashenko did understand what Malokov wanted to express, but the taste revealed by his facial expression was a little strange.

"What a pity, this dress is so nice and new. Oh, I'd better keep it and wear it at home later. If no one sees it, it won't bring shame to the motherland. I haven't bought many new clothes since the war started. It's a pity to throw it away."

""

Malokoff, with a black face, couldn't think of what to say next. Malashenko's outrageousness was so outrageous that he went home to find his mother: outrageous to the extreme.

In the end, Malokoff could only leave the tank soldier's major general uniform he brought with him. Before leaving, he once again reminded Malashenko to remember to wear this suit tomorrow, and never wear the one that was crumpled into a toilet paper.

Malashenko also agreed and dealt with it. In a flash, it was time for the award ceremony to start early the next morning.

The ceremony was not held indoors but outdoors, at the Kubinka test site where Malashenko and his trainees spent half a month together for many consecutive days.

In order to make the award ceremony more ceremonial, the dozen IS2 heavy tanks that were used for test driving and simulated confrontation were driven to the designated position early in the morning and lined up in a row, with their sturdy and majestic main guns raised high and their black muzzles pointed obliquely at the sky.

In front of the IS2 heavy tanks lined up in a row, there were groups of three or five, each wearing their uniforms and medals, and the British and American officers with happy faces, and the Red Army tank soldiers who participated in this operation. Some small talk before the award ceremony was inevitable.

"Oh, Henderson, you have more medals than Jack! Did you secretly find a small French workshop to forge a few for you?"

"Son of the Beach! Can you say something nice with your stinky mouth? If you joke about honor again, I'll beat you up!"

"They quarrel all the time. Hey, look at my dress? I found a French tailor to iron it for me before I left for Russia. His craftsmanship is first-rate!"

It's not just the British and American Allies who are chatting awkwardly. They all speak fluent English. The Red Army tank soldiers who have become familiar with these British and American Allied cadets in recent days are naturally mixed in.

"Hey, brother! I heard that General Malashenko will personally present us with the award today. Is this true? What will the prize be? I can't wait to know it in advance."

The American lieutenant colonel who spoke first asked this question. When the British and American officers who were still chatting awkwardly around him heard this, they turned their heads and cast their eyes in this direction. It seems that everyone is more interested in today's prize.

But unfortunately, all they had left were the words of the Red Army tank colonel who slowly shook his head when asked this question.

"To be honest, I don't know. I'm just a lieutenant colonel like you. How can I know about the generals? I also heard that General Malashenko might give us an award, but I only heard about it. I don't know more details than you, and I don't know what the award is."

"Oh, well, this is really sad news."

The American lieutenant colonel, who was smiling just now, shrugged sadly, but he never thought that at this moment, the person they were talking about in the conversation had already followed.

"Look, look over there! It's General Malashenko, he's here."

After working together for many days, most of the British and American officers who were originally dissatisfied with Malashenko, despised him, and even despised him, and thought that this guy became a general at such a young age, and he must have used backdoors and connections, changed their attitude.

Not only did they get to know Malashenko again, but they also recognized and admired him. There is no doubt that Malashenko conquered these originally unruly and arrogant British and American officers with his own strength. Even Charleson, who was also a major general, gave Malashenko a very high evaluation and described him in a telegram sent to Montgomery in Europe.

"Anyway, I think after experiencing this short period of half a month, there is only one thing I can be sure of. We should really be glad that this Malashenko is not a German, but a Soviet. It will be an "unimaginable" disaster to be an enemy of him and such an armored commander. I am very sure of this, and I believe that the Germans will agree with this statement."

"But in the future, if the two different civilizations between us really come to that day, it is definitely not good news for us to stand on the opposite side of this man. I have a hunch, a very strong hunch, that there are too many things hidden in this man, and the future of the Soviet Red Army will definitely set off an unimaginable change because of him."