Chapter 859 Reluctantly

Lavrinenko's words obviously frightened the child. The lieutenant, who was a few years older than Malashenko, was stunned for a moment before his expression changed immediately. He rushed over and hugged Malashenko's calf with a sad face, just like his father had died and his mother was buried.

"Colonel, I have a wife and children at home! My mother is 68 years old this year, and my father died when I was a child. I need to take care of everything in my family. My wife and children can't live without me. The photo is right, I have a photo as proof."

The lieutenant hurriedly took out a photo from the inner pocket of his coat, a black and white photo with obvious signs of aging and a considerable number of wrinkles.

"This, this is my son, five years old, very cute. This is my wife, Orisa, she is holding our two-year-old daughter in her arms. I must go back alive, Colonel, I am willing to do anything you ask me to do, I will tell you all the military secrets, as long as I know them!"

"Please, give me a way out, don't let me die, I will tell you everything I know!"

The lieutenant, who was getting more and more panicked, was sure that Malashenko was the one who made the final decision and held the power. He held Malashenko's calf with both hands as if he was holding a life-saving straw and refused to let go, as if he was afraid that if he let go, his life would also pass away.

Malashenko, who had transformed into a god with the power of life and death, looked a little helpless.

Malashenko was sure that what Lavrinenko said just now was just a joke that was close to a bad taste.

And Malashenko himself had no intention of killing this Romanian lieutenant, he had already said enough information to save his life.

"After all, you are a man in military uniform. Even for your family, there is no need to act like a dead dog. Leave yourself some dignity."

""

The Romanian lieutenant who was scolded by Malashenko actually smiled happily after a short period of confusion.

Yes, it was a smile.

With rich life experience and experience, he knew that a person who was decisive in killing would not say these useless nonsense to you when he wanted to kill you.

Only when that person finally decided to spare your life, would he finally give you a few words of sermon in the posture of a strong man. Both the Germans and the Russians seemed to be used to this.

"It's okay, take him away and send him to the place where he should be detained."

The Romanian lieutenant, who was still lying limp on the ground, was lifted up from the ground by two soldiers, each holding one arm. He looked dirty and shabby, and didn't look like a soldier at all. He looked more like a refugee who escaped in a borrowed military uniform. But even so, he still thanked Malashenko repeatedly and was grateful.

"Thank you, thank you, Colonel! I hope you can send all those Germans to the prisoner-of-war camp, I really mean it! Colonel!"

Lavrinenko, who was being escorted farther and farther away with a loud howl of gratitude, got up from his chair with a cigarette butt in his hand, looking at the direction of the sound from the communication trench with confusion, and then looked at Malashenko with an expression that was almost unbelievable.

"Is that guy serious? Do you think what he said is credible? Why do I feel that he is a lunatic with a problem in his head?"

Compared to Lavrinenko's face full of question marks, Malashenko, who had already spread out the war zone map on the table and held a pencil in his hand, seemed calm.

"Do you know what I told Kirill when he first joined the army?"

Lavrinenko was stunned when he heard this, and had no idea what Malashenko's irrelevant words meant.

"Kirill had just graduated from Moscow University at that time. How could a young man with musical talent adapt to the high-intensity battles on the front line?"

"I told Kirill that the battlefield would never need reluctant heroes. But now I have to admit that I was wrong. Kirill is not the kind of reluctant hero. Comrade Political Commissar has trained his nephew very well."

"But"

Malashenko took a deep breath and took off the cigarette butt that flew out of his mouth. He pointed to the traffic trench outside the door and spoke quietly.

"The reluctant person is just like what happened just now. He is not a soldier from head to toe."

"I don't know why he joined the army in the first place or what happened to him, but at least, it should be forced by reality and not his intention."

The more Malashenko spoke, the more confused Lavrinenko became, as if he was put into a dark pocket where he couldn't see his hand in front of his face.

"Wait, how did you..."

"How do I know that guy was forced to go to the battlefield? When he showed me the photo, I noticed his little finger. The skin on the outside of the finger was completely smoothed, as smooth as glass without any wrinkles or ups and downs."

"People who have been engaged in art sketching for many years have little fingers like this. They are all polished by sticking to the drawing board. It takes ten or eight years of hard practice to reach this level. The posture of holding the photo with the right hand is also the standard posture of holding a pencil for sketching. Subconscious habits cannot be avoided by subjective consciousness."

"From the moment he stretched out his hand to take out the photo, he had already explained all his past years clearly."

At this point, Malashenko couldn't help but put his hands on the table and shook his head. There are some things that even a time traveler like him can't see through.

"War has involved many people who are not related to each other, Lavri. Whether we are the enemy or the enemy, some people who should have lived an ordinary life with different faces."

After listening to Malashenko's philosophy of life, Lavrinenko was thoughtful and wanted to ask Malashenko about more specific details, but then he thought it was more important to do business first.

"What are you going to do? Believe the intelligence?"

"Of course, the eyes are the windows to the soul, and his eyes have proved that he can't lie in that situation."

Malashenko spoke with confidence, and at the same time, he waved his pencil in front of the second line of defense. An oval area marked out immediately jumped into Lavrinenko's eyes.

"Call the artillery group in the rear to cover this area with artillery fire for fifteen minutes, and then extend the artillery fire to the tops of the heads of those Romanians for another fifteen minutes. No matter how large the actual coverage area of ​​his minefield is, we only need to blow out a passage, and then let those Romanians share the joy of our brigade replacing new vehicles."

"They will be happy about this, in our prisoner-of-war camp."