Steel Soviet Union

The person who bumped into Malashenko's arms and was knocked down on his butt was the top medical student who had returned from Johns Hopkins University in the United States: Dr. Karachev.

If he hadn't bumped into Malashenko, a burly man with a height of 1.9 meters, Karachev would have gone outside to smoke two cigarettes according to his original plan.

Because of his identity as a Russian, it was rare for him to have a common language with his college classmates and alumni. Karachev, who endured loneliness alone, learned to smoke to relieve his depression.

It is easy to quit smoking, but due to the current situation in life, it is often difficult to take this step, even if Karachev's job as a surgeon does not allow him to smoke in theory.

This is a way of recalling past years and thinking about future life. More importantly, it can relieve depression when an adult male is depressed.

If I have to say it, it is life that chooses cigarettes, rather than cigarettes clinging to the soul. This is true for any man in the world who carries responsibilities.

The same is true for Malashenko.

"Planning to go outside for a smoke?"

Facing Malashenko's right hand that he took the initiative to stretch out in front of him, Karachev, who was slightly in disbelief, replied in surprise.

"How do you know? Comrade leader."

"Oh, do you still need to ask?"

Holding tightly his right hand, which was more delicate and tender than his rough hand, Malashenko used his arm strength to pull up Karachev, who was already sitting on the ground with his center of gravity unsteady.

"The lighter and cigarette case in your hand fell to the ground. Is there any need for me to guess?"

Karachev, who was pulled up by Malashenko, looked at the cigarette case and lighter that fell at his feet, and a slightly embarrassed smile appeared on his face.

"You were right, comrade leader, why don't we take one together?"

"Sure, why not?"

Smoking is not suitable in crowded hospitals with densely wounded patients. Secondhand smoke is not only of no benefit to the wounded, it is also harmful to doctors and nurses who do not smoke cigarettes.

Although most people in this era are not aware of this or don't care at all.

But fortunately, Karachev, who received higher education and returned from studying medicine, understands this and the dangers of second-hand smoke to non-smokers.

The same goes for Malashenko, who traveled through time from later generations.

Two smokers of similar age squatted at the entrance of the hospital and were about to do something for the guy. Before Malashenko could touch his smoking guy, a cigarette was suddenly reflected in front of his eyes.

"Huh? American cigarettes?"

Malashenko blurted out subconscious surprise, and the corresponding reply was Karachev's equally surprised words.

"Do you know this smoke? Comrade leader."

"I don't know it, but I can smell it."

Malashenko took the cigarette from Kalachev, and then like a connoisseur, he put the whole cigarette under his nose and swiped it. A strong exotic smell immediately hit his forehead, making him feel intoxicated. Initiation.

"Tsk, I have to say that the Yankees' cigarettes are not bad. They have always been like this. To be honest, the cigarettes smoked by our Red Army are far from the Yankees' cigarettes. The cigarettes I received as a quota supply were smoked into my mouth. The feeling is getting worse and worse, it feels like chewing leaves, the taste is not right, it is simply terrible.”

Malashenko is right.

Because of the outbreak of the Great Patriotic War, all material production began to be reduced from the original station level to the level of priority to ensure quantity. As for the quality review threshold, it has been lowered to an unprecedented level. Generally speaking, as long as it can be used, it will be enough. .

Of course, the fact that the smell of cigarettes is getting worse and worse is not intentional.

With large tracts of land lost and cigarette factories displaced, it is inevitable that the cigarettes supplied to Malashenko's level with the school officer quota do not taste as good as before. Malashenko can understand that he is just complaining. .

After glancing sideways at the cigarette box in Karachev's hand, Malashenko immediately recognized the beautifully drawn pattern on the box.

"Ji Shiyan? I didn't expect you to carry such high-end goods. You are living a very wealthy life in the United States."

Unlike the American soldiers who all have a box of Camel brand that they smoke to death, Jishi Cigarettes, although its market share in the United States is relatively small and far behind Camel, has created some high-end cigarettes that are exclusively smoked by the middle and upper classes. The taste is said to be quite good, hence the nickname "Satisfying Smoke".

Although Malashenko didn't quite understand the difference between the high and low grades of tobacco in the United States, he generally knew that the smell of rice smelled bad, especially when he just put the cigarette under his nose and smelled it. The smell on the forehead is obviously not something that ordinary street stuff can have.

Let’s leave the celestial dynasty in future generations, why not, it must be at the level of Furong King, right?

Malashenko, who secretly smoked a pack of "bad cigarettes" for ten yuan every day in high school, thought so.

Having guessed the truth by Malashenko, Karachev nodded slightly and told the truth without hesitation.

"When I was in college, I didn't have any other expenses, and the cigarettes I smoked were relatively refined. My father supplied products to many restaurants in small towns, and our family's life was actually quite affluent. So my smoking of this kind of cigarettes didn't count. What, Comrade Leader, at least it’s much cheaper than my classmates setting up a table in the pub and waiting for the girl to come over.”

Indeed, compared to the "high-end consumption" of playing with women, smoking some good cigarettes can really be regarded as "diaosi entertainment".

"You're right, capitalist countries are like this. If a man doesn't have any real ability, it's very expensive to seduce women."

He lit the cigarette between his lips with a lighter. After taking a deep breath, a high-quality pleasure that he had not experienced for a long time rushed to Malashenko's forehead.

"Karachev, I have something to discuss with you."

"Ah? What are we discussing? Comrade leader. Just ask, and I will do whatever I can."

Unlike Karachev, whose expression was full of surprise, Malashenko, who looked mysterious as if he was planning to do something bad, immediately looked at both sides, and after realizing that no one was around, he covered his face with his hands. He whispered softly into Karachev's ear.

"Do you still have this kind of American cigarettes over there? Give me some. If not, you can give me a box. I'm simply fed up with that kind of leaf-chewing tobacco. You can understand me, right? We are both old smokers."

Forcibly held by Malashenko's shoulders, Dr. Karachev looked at the "honest smile" on the head of the regiment leader and could not help but feel a little confused and confused.