Chapter 592 Hatred

What is it like to smoke on the corpse of an enemy?

Malashenko had never thought about this question before, but now, right now, Malashenko was sitting on the corpse of Lieutenant Colonel Doppler, holding a cigarette between his fingertips and exhaling slowly with a trembling right hand.

"You shouldn't be so anxious to kill him. Maybe we can get some useful information from him."

The slightly regretful words from Political Commissar Petrov echoed in Malashenko's ears. After exhaling the last puff of smoke, Malashenko immediately extinguished the cigarette butt in his hand on the top of the corpse's forehead under his buttocks.

"People have the right to live, but scumbags don't have to. There is a kind of German who is immersed in his own world and can't extricate himself and can't recognize the reality. They never repent, even if you talk a lot of nonsense. I usually call this kind of German a German stick."

There was a large gunshot wound in the middle of the eyebrow of the corpse with dilated pupils, which penetrated the entire forehead. It was quite lucky that the Tokarev TT33 pistol didn't smash the person's head into a rotten watermelon when firing at close range.

Time goes back to three minutes ago. Malashenko, who risked his life to fight the German army that broke into the village, finally won a tragic tactical victory.

Next to a Type 3 tank that was destroyed but luckily did not catch fire or explode, several angry Red Army soldiers dragged the half-dead German armored soldiers out of the tank like a dead dog.

"Name."

After a period of learning and accumulation, Malashenko can now ask some simple questions in German in a slightly clumsy tone without the help of an interpreter. This is the case when facing Lieutenant Colonel Doppler who was pulled out of the tank.

Lieutenant Colonel Doppler still doesn't understand why there are so many Soviet heavy tanks in this remote village. What's even more bizarre is that this heavy tank unit, which is at least at the regiment level, has only a bunch of militiamen attached to it.

If it weren't for the genuine and close-up Soviet Guards logo, Lieutenant Colonel Doppler would never have believed that the troops that defeated his offensive were actually the most elite Soviet Guards tank troops. This was simply too ridiculous.

"I am not obliged to answer your question."

Malashenko, who was only a mediocre German speaker at best, simply understood a few key words in Lieutenant Colonel Doppler's words, but this did not prevent Malashenko from understanding the specific meaning of the whole sentence. After all, what the other party was thinking was clearly written on that extremely disdainful face.

Malashenko frowned slightly and said little, and seemed to be noncommittal about Lieutenant Colonel Doppler's disdain.

He tilted his head and looked at the bodies of the Red Army soldiers lined up beside him who had not yet been covered with shrouds. Malashenko could tell at a glance that two of the bodies were his capable generals: the bearded battalion commander Major Maxim and the platoon leader Andrei who died of excessive blood loss.

Andrei, who had lost too much blood and failed to be rescued, and could not receive a blood transfusion, looked as pale as snow in the cold weather.

Major Maxim, the bearded battalion commander who was promoted by Malashenko, had a hole as big as a bowl in his chest, which was extremely shocking.

A German Type 3 tank took advantage of its mobility to frantically circle the side in the narrow battle background of the village, and finally used a 40-type sub-caliber tungsten core armor-piercing bullet to penetrate the side armor of Major Maxim's car.

The tungsten core armor-piercing bullet penetrated Major Maxim's chest before the members in the car could react. The major battalion commander who was extremely loyal to Malashenko died on the spot in his tank.

The loss rate of the entire First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment has exceeded 70% so far. Malashenko estimated that there should be only eight tanks left on hand.

Countless loyal tank soldiers died in this deserted village. Malashenko, who was almost furious at the loss, didn't know how to vent his negative emotions. He didn't know what the meaning was and blurted out to the detained Lieutenant Colonel Doppler in front of him.

"Did you kill him?"

Following the direction of Malashenko's finger, he looked at the two cold bodies lying on the ground with their faces up. Lieutenant Colonel Doppler, who had never looked at the Russian boy in front of him, gave a strange and grim smile and spoke again with extremely disdainful words.

"If you ask if I did it, I can answer you that I gave the order. I ordered my troops to kill all of you stubborn Russians. But what's the point? Killing him makes me feel honored, because we came to this land as conquerors, and there is only blood and no flowers under the feet of conquerors!"

""

Malachenko couldn't quite understand what the German armored lieutenant colonel in front of him, who was almost an old man, was saying. The long string of words spoken at a very fast speed obviously exceeded the limit of Malachenko's comprehension of German.

Sasha, who survived the battle and had been standing beside Malachenko, saw this scene and stepped forward to translate. The death of the battalion commander Maxim also made the young tank commander feel angry.

With Sasha's accurate translation, Malachenko understood what the German armored lieutenant colonel in front of him just said, and also understood how much this German old man wanted to meet Comrade Lenin to confess in person.

"Have a good journey, German. I hope you can get Comrade Lenin's forgiveness."

As soon as Sasha finished translating, Malashenko, who had already held the Tokarev TT33 pistol tightly in his hand, raised the muzzle of the gun and pulled the trigger instantly.

Bang——

After a deafening gunshot, Lieutenant Colonel Doppler, who seemed a little surprised that Malashenko dared to kill prisoners of war, leaned back and fell to the ground in an instant with an unbelievable look on his face.

Malashenko, who looked expressionless and indifferent, did not stop there. He stepped on the chest of Lieutenant Colonel Doppler's headshot with his size 45 shoes, and raised the Tokarev TT33 pistol for the second time and fired continuously. It took only a few seconds to use up all the remaining bullets in the magazine.

Click-click-click

The sound of the firing pin hitting the air after the bullets were used up seemed very strange. Malashenko, who had fired all the bullets in his pistol at the corpse, raised his hand and looked at the weapon in his hand with smoke coming out of the muzzle.

With a look of despair, the pistol he had been holding tightly slipped to his feet and fell to the ground. Malashenko, who no longer cared about anything, simply sat down on the corpse with blood bubbles coming out of it, took out a half-pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took out one of them and slowly lit it.