Steel Soviet Union

There was no overly grand ceremony, and the wedding was simple. Apart from the star-studded guests present, the rest were just a few tables for dinner and banquets, and blessings were given in unison in a small space but filled with laughter and warmth.

Amid waves of cheers and cheers from the crowd, Malashenko, who had kissed his newlywed wife countless times, was still "forced to continue" and kept toasting one after another. They exchanged glasses and drank until they were drunk.

Even Natalia couldn't "escape". The lesbians from the song and dance troupe took turns to clink glasses. Natalia, who had already drank five or six glasses of water, had her cheeks as red as a ripe one. The fallen Apple seemed to be really unable to withstand it.

Seeing this, Malashenko hurriedly signaled for his wife to take a rest, and all the wine came towards him.

It doesn't matter if I don't say this, as soon as I say it, one glass after another of wine will "gather the fire".

Malashenko, who felt that it was more difficult to handle than directing a war, could not resist it. It was not until he found that there was only one person missing among the people who were constantly toasting and cheering that he suddenly felt that most of the alcohol was gone.

"Where is Comrade Political Commissar? Why don't you see Comrade Political Commissar?"

"Ah haha ​​- keep drinking - uh, Comrade Political Commissar?"

When Lavrinenko, who was having a drink with someone next to him, heard this, he quickly raised his head and glanced around. He looked in every corner of the room but could not find the familiar figure.

"Maybe you went to the bathroom?"

It is true that this possibility cannot be ruled out, but Malashenko, whose ears were full of laughter, always felt a little uneasy.

After much thought, I still felt uneasy, so I decided to go look for it myself.

However, when Malashenko excused himself from the crowd and found Comrade Political Commissar in the bathroom, the situation in front of him really shocked Malashenko.

"Political Commissar, Comrade Political Commissar! You are vomiting blood again!"

There was still a large blood stain in the sink, and the political commissar holding the hand on the edge of the sink waved his hand to signal not to shout too loudly, and then slowly spoke with Malashenko's support.

"Ahem - this shabby body is really disappointing, but at this time - ahem - it can't hold on at this time, ahem -"

"Sorry, I thought I could at least survive today, but I didn't expect - ahem - oh, I'm embarrassing you on this happy day, it's really -"

"Okay! Stop talking! Don't I know what's going on with you? Hurry up -"

Malashenko, who was supporting Comrade Political Commissar, hadn't finished speaking yet. He was about to help Comrade Political Commissar go outside and call for medical treatment quickly.

But he didn't expect that the political commissar, who had just helped the political commissar take two steps away from the sink and was so weak that he couldn't even walk, weakened and collapsed directly into Malashenko's arms.

"Comrade Political Commissar! Comrade Political Commissar!!!"

"What's going on? What's going on?"

Hearing Malashenko's shouting, Zhukov, Vatutin, and Lavrinenko rushed out of the door. At a glance, they saw Malashenko supporting the fainting political commissar in the corridor and talking continuously.

"Quick! Send him to the hospital, Comrade Political Commissar has passed out!"

"Call a car, hurry up and call a car! Help me, hurry up!"

"Let Karachev fly back to Moscow immediately. He has always been responsible for the condition of Comrade Political Commissar. I don't care what he is doing! Please notify him immediately and let him come back!"

A group of people scrambled to rush the political commissar to the hospital. Shortly after that, Karachev, director of the military field hospital far away in Shenyang, the headquarters of the leading army in the northeast, also received an emergency telegram.

"Comrade Karachev, urgent call from Moscow! Comrade Political Commissar is in critical condition and you need to rush over immediately."

"What!?"

Kalachev, who was looking through the diagnostic report in his hand, quickly stood up from his chair. After briefly communicating with the new commander of the leadership army, Kulbalov, who came to inform him in person, and understanding the situation, he immediately closed his eyes slightly with regret.

"I'm so stupid, so stupid! I shouldn't have let Comrade Political Commissar go back alone, I should have accompanied him!"

"Stop talking about this, pack up and get ready to go! I'll arrange the nearest flight for you. Get in the car and set off in ten minutes! Hurry!"

Karachev, who had been rushing all the way, took a flight back to Moscow overnight. As soon as he got off the plane, he got into the waiting car and immediately went to the hospital to devote himself to the first aid work for the political commissar.

When Karachev, who had been busy for several hours, finally walked out of the ward, everyone who had been waiting at the door for a long time immediately swarmed him.

"How is Comrade Political Commissar? How is the situation?"

"Is Comrade Political Commissar's condition getting better? You have been responsible for taking care of him and have taken care of him for so long. You must have something to do, right?!"

Faced with the repeated questioning of Lavrinenko and Iushkin, Karachev was speechless, and then turned his attention to Malashenko, who said nothing.

It is not that Malashenko is indifferent to the situation of Comrade Political Commissar. It is obviously impossible for people to say that he is not indifferent here.

It's just that Malashenko has always been vaguely aware that the day he was most afraid of has finally come. Looking at Karachev's speechless expression, Malashenko can almost guess the words that came out of his mouth. Helpless words squeezed out.

"We have tried our best, everyone, all comrades have tried their best, but"

"I'm sorry, Comrade Political Commissar has persisted for too long. It is faith and will that have been supporting him. His body has -"

"Ah - what are you talking about!? You know -"

"Shut up! Iushkin!"

Kalachev's words were interrupted by Iushkin. Iushkin, who was almost out of control, was stopped by Malashenko. He took a deep breath and asked the question softly, then faced Kalachev and blurted it out.

"How much time is left?"

"Maybe half a day, maybe a few hours, maybe ten minutes or even a few minutes, it's impossible to predict. There are no clinical cases for reference. I have already gone through all the literature. Comrade Political Commissar himself is a miracle."

""

With his eyes slightly closed, Malashenko's mind went blank and he could not speak. Karachev, who slowly walked up to Malashenko, seemed to want to say something, but the words came to his lips. He stopped again, and in the end only a simple sentence was left.

"He wants to see you and spend his last time with you. He is still waiting."

"knew."

Malashenko, who walked past Karachev and came to the door of the ward, was about to open the door and enter, but suddenly stopped.

He turned around again and glanced at the comrades waiting in front of the ward door, whose faces were either sad, stunned, or sluggish. In the end, Vatutin personally stepped forward, patted Malashenko's arm and spoke.

"Go ahead and leave no regrets, either for him or for yourself."