Battlefield medics

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

In 1942, the flames of World War II swept across Europe. The Eastern Front, particularly the Soviet-German front, was the most intense and brutal. After Hitler's defeat at the gates of Moscow in the winter of 1941, he lost the strength for a full-scale offensive and instead concentrated 1.5 million troops to launch an unprecedented and fierce attack on Stalingrad, a key city on the Volga River. The Soviet army fought desperately, but the enemy was simply too powerful. In mid-October 1942, German troops broke into Stalingrad, and one of the bloodiest urban battles in human history began.

Stalingrad became a burning hell. The Germans often captured piles of ruins during the day at the cost of an entire company, but at night, the Soviet army would infiltrate like ghosts, easily recapturing positions hard-won by the Germans overnight.

When the harsh Russian winter arrived, fallen soldiers were often frozen solid to the ground by their own blood. The bodies of Soviet and German soldiers, embracing each other in death, could not be separated, and those collecting the bodies had to use chisels to remove them from the ground and drag them away like bundles of firewood.

The most tragic fate was that of the wounded. After a battle, the jagged lines of the two sides often made it impossible for comrades to brave enemy fire to drag them back from the battlefield, and most of them were already incapacitated, left to freeze to death lying in the snow. Even those wounded who were fortunate enough to be dragged back did not escape the shadow of death:

Soviet medical personnel suffered heavy losses due to fatigue and battle casualties, leaving many wounded without treatment.

Therefore, how to treat the wounded became a thorny problem.

With casualties worsening, wounded soldiers unable to return to the battlefield, and new recruits insufficient to replenish the ranks, General Chuikov, commander of the 62nd Army, the overall commander of the Soviet forces responsible for the defense of Stalingrad, was deeply worried.

That day, the Stalingrad railway station fell to the Germans again. The loss of Stalingrad was like a nail driven into the throat of the Soviet army. But Chuikov couldn't even muster a complete company. Seeing the blue flag representing the German army getting closer and closer to the Volga River on the map, he gritted his teeth and called his bodyguard: "Sasha, assemble the guard company."

Just then, he heard someone shout from the entrance of the command post behind him: "Report!" General Chuikov, hearing a woman's voice, was furious. In such a brutal place, the headquarters had sent him a woman—wasn't this absurd? He turned around angrily, about to unleash his fury, when suddenly his eyes lit up.

Standing at the entrance of the command post was a tall, elderly woman. The old woman was about sixty years old, a head taller than Chuikov, easily 1.83 meters. Her cascading blonde hair fell from beneath her boat-shaped cap, and her Soviet Type 38 women's uniform accentuated her shapely figure. Her large breasts, in particular, hung like two landmines on her chest, seemingly ready to sway in the wind. Her fair skin was flushed red by the north wind, and her blue eyes gazed at General Chuikov with tender affection.

Seeing him turn around, she snapped her heels to attention and saluted: "Reporting to Commander, Second Lieutenant Yelena Daslova, Platoon Leader of the 557th Field Medical Platoon, is reporting to you. The entire platoon, thirty-three men, is here."

General Chuikov felt a tightness in his throat. He returned the salute without showing any emotion and asked, "Who ordered you to come?"

"Reporting to Commander, we belong to the Internal Troops. Comrade Beria personally ordered us to come to the front," Yelena replied.

A gust of north wind blew in through the door, sending a chill down Chuikov's spine. He had never trusted anyone sent by Beria. He wondered what secrets this field medical team held. In an instant, he made up his mind and ordered, "I now order you to be attached to the guard company. Report to logistics, pack your belongings, and depart for the train station with the guard company in ten minutes!"

"Yes, sir!" Yelena replied loudly, saluted, and turned to leave.

In a half-collapsed building near the Stalingrad train station, Yelena and her deputy platoon leader, Mara, set up a makeshift field hospital.

The 557th Field Medical Platoon was a mixed bag, including elderly women from various countries. Some were volunteers, others were staff and their families sent to Moscow for training, unable to return home due to the war, and had joined the Soviet army.

The first platoon leader, Mileni, was a 53-year-old Spaniard who had fled to the Soviet Union after the Spanish Civil War and the overthrow of the republican government. The second platoon leader, Louise, was a 58-year-old blonde American. The squad leader was Chinese, named Cheng Suyun, fifty-five years old, a petite woman with bound feet.

At 3:30 PM, the battle to capture the train station officially began. Due to the Germans' prior preparation, the Soviet casualties were heavy. Intense gunfire continued for three hours without ceasing, and the train station was engulfed in thick smoke and flames. Large numbers of wounded soldiers were continuously sent to the field hospital of the 557th Field Medical Platoon.

The operating tables were bustling with activity. Yelena and Mara served as the chief surgeons, performing emergency operations on the wounded.

They had been working continuously for three hours, their backs aching from exhaustion, yet they remained steadfast in their posts. Yelena had just removed shrapnel from one wounded soldier when another was brought to the operating table. Yelena examined his injuries: his leg was severely blasted, the muscles were turned outwards, and the leg could not be saved; she decided to perform an amputation. "Anesthesia!" she shouted to the anesthesiologist, Dan Niang.

"Report, Platoon Leader, we've run out of anesthetic!"

"What?" Yelena was shocked. Without anesthetic, the wounded soldier would die in agony on the operating table. What could she do? There was no time to go to the rear to get more. Just then, Mara, Louise, and Milenny also reported to her that they had run out of anesthetic as well. Yelena was at a loss, watching the wounded soldier weaken little by little, no longer even having the strength to scream.

Suddenly, Yelena caught sight of Louise's high-top leather boots, and a brilliant idea flashed into her mind. In a moment of inspiration, she ordered, "All personnel, listen to my command, take off your trousers!"

The old women were stunned. In such cold weather, wouldn't taking off their trousers make them freeze? Seeing that they stood still, Yelena shouted again, "All soldiers, listen to my command now, take off your trousers!" As she spoke, she took the lead, unfastening her leather belt and pulling her trousers down to her ankles, revealing two full, long legs clad in thick stockings. Seeing that their platoon leader had already taken off his pants, everyone else had no choice but to loosen their belts and take off their own. Yelena, seeing that everyone had undressed, commanded, "Listen to my order, take off your stockings!"

It turned out that Soviet female soldiers were issued two pairs of stockings with their uniforms. Although the Soviet Union's light industry wasn't highly developed, the stockings they produced were of very good quality and were sold throughout Europe at the time. Soviet female soldiers had two types of stockings, one for winter and one for summer; they were currently wearing the thick winter stockings. Not knowing what their platoon leader was up to, everyone had no choice but to follow suit and remove their stockings.

Europeans are generally known for their strong body odor, and the 557th Field Medical Team, having endured three days and three nights of bumpy train travel without being able to sleep without their shoes, was exhausted. Upon disembarking, they immediately threw themselves into the intense field medical care without rest. At this moment, over sixty stockings were removed from the feet of the elderly women, who had been covered in sweat and boots for three days and three nights. A gust of wind immediately filled the room with the fragrant scent of their feet.

The pungent smell filled the nostrils of every wounded soldier. Those who had been groaning in pain were instantly jolted awake by the refreshing aroma, breathing it in greedily and forgetting their suffering. Everyone then understood the platoon leader's intention.

Yelena shouted, "Prepare for surgery!" She pulled up her trousers and prepared the surgical instruments. The anesthesiologist, Danian, holding two of the platoon leader's stockings, came to the operating table upon hearing the order. She folded the stockings neatly, with the black toes facing down, and quickly placed them over the wounded soldier's mouth and nose.

The wounded soldier, already invigorated by the initial scent of lotus blossoms, couldn't withstand such a strong stimulation. The overwhelming aroma filled his respiratory tract, causing his brain to overstimulate, and he instantly fainted. Yelena then began her surgery, skillfully sawing through his leg bone and quickly suturing the wound with thread pulled from her stocking.

The other operating tables followed suit, and the wounded not only received treatment but also had their pain reduced. Outside, though artillery fire raged and the north wind howled, the room, bathed in the fragrance of the old women's feet, was warm and cozy, as if they were in the Bolshoi Theatre rather than on a brutal battlefield.

The fighting continued fiercely; both the Soviet and German armies had committed large numbers of troops to the area around the train station. General Chuikov had deployed all the reinforcements that had just arrived, and the Germans had also sent an elite armored regiment. Night had fallen, and the raging fire cast a majestic silhouette of the station clock tower against the sky, much like the tall, robust figures of the elderly women in the field medical platoon, steadfastly standing guard on the vast Russian land.

No matter how ferocious the fascists, they could not ultimately bring them down.

The field hospital of the 557th Medical Platoon was now overflowing with wounded soldiers. Yelena and Mara, exhausted, collapsed at the operating table and were forced to rest, so the surgeon was replaced by the elderly Chinese woman, Cheng Suyun.

One consequence of the increased troop deployment on both sides was the surge in wounded. The elderly women worked frantically to speed things up, but even as they operated, the long line of wounded waiting for treatment continued, with some dying on stretchers. At this critical moment, the anesthetic ran out—the women's stockings, having been used so many times, had quickly lost their effectiveness due to the pervasive odor.

Cheng Suyun attempted to operate on the wounded without anesthesia, but the wounded died on the operating table from the excruciating pain. Cheng Suyun stamped her feet in frustration. Unexpectedly, this stamping reminded her of something. Her feet were small to begin with, and after standing for so long, they were numb. As she rubbed her feet, she touched her foot bindings. She remembered a metaphor she'd heard:

a lazy woman's foot bindings—long and smelly.

She thought that although she wasn't a lazy woman, these foot bindings had been on her feet since she joined the Soviet army three months ago, and they must smell incredibly strong now. She decided to at least try them out. With that thought, she bent down, took off her boots, revealing her tightly bound feet. Immediately, an even stronger odor than before wafted out, almost unbearable for her, and her lower body became wet.

She cut off a small piece with surgical scissors and just as she placed it over the wounded soldier's mouth and nose, the soldier screamed "Ah!", his eyes rolled back, and with a tearing sound, the Russian's thick, long penis stood erect in his trousers, piercing through them. The penis trembled incessantly, and within two seconds, a stream of milky white liquid shot up to the ceiling. The wounded soldier exhaled, exhausted, and fainted.

This was completely unexpected by Cheng Suyun. After quickly performing surgery on the wounded soldier, she soaked the foot bindings in water before bringing in the next one, to prevent the wounded from being too agitated and dying under their own foot bindings instead of on the battlefield. She put the foot bindings on her feet, replacing them only when one became ineffective, to avoid wasting the odor. She continued like this until after 11 p.m., when the foot bindings were used up, and the bandages were also exhausted from extensive use.

Fortunately, Louise came up with a solution: she had everyone take turns removing their menstrual belts. The menstrual belts were covered with the old women's dark red blood clots and blackish-yellow fecal matter, and the odor was a hundred times stronger than that of the stockings and foot bindings. Louise's own menstrual belt even had stains of vaginal fluid.

Each menstrual belt pulled from the old women's crotches was like a chemical bomb exploding; the invisible gas filled the entire room and was carried by the north wind to the station. The smell invigorated the Soviet and German soldiers fighting fiercely, boosting their morale and resulting in even more wounded being brought in. Used stockings, now ineffective, were used as bandages; the elastic stockings tightly wrapped around the wounded, stopping blood flow and preventing death from excessive blood loss.

While the medical team was frantically treating the wounded, the nursing team was also busy caring for those who had received emergency treatment. Mileni, along with nine nurses, checked on each wounded soldier, feeding and watering them. When they reached the corner of the room, they found three seriously wounded soldiers lying there. Two were already dead, and the third was barely alive, his lips twitching as he groaned, "Water...water...give me water..."

Milani quickly brought the water bottle to his lips, but he only took two sips before coughing violently, spraying water onto his chest, reopening his wounds, and causing blood to seep out. Milani and Nurse Katyusha tightened the wounds with stockings while wiping the water from the wounded soldier's mouth. It seemed this soldier would die immediately without water, but he couldn't drink a single drop. What to do?

Suddenly, Milani remembered her time in the Madrid field medic team during the Spanish Civil War. Back then, their head nurse had saved many wounded soldiers with her own breast milk, but the excessive suckling had later given her breast cancer. At this point, there was no time to worry about that; saving lives was the priority. Mileni unbuttoned her military overcoat, took off her cotton-padded coat, and lifted her undershirt, revealing a pair of large breasts encased in a red bra.

Mileni flipped the bra cups up, exposing her snow-white, forty-inch breasts nakedly to the wounded soldier, who, blinded by bandages, could see nothing. Mileni held her breasts to the soldier's mouth, and Katyusha pried open his teeth. Mileni then shoved her large, purplish-red nipples into his mouth.

In his hazy consciousness, the soldier suddenly felt something enter his mouth—familiar, yet he couldn't quite place it. He instinctively sucked, and a sweet liquid rushed down his throat. Good heavens! Wasn't this the taste of his mother's milk? In a daze, he felt as if he had returned to his childhood, as if he had returned home.

"Mom..." he managed to utter two words. The milk soothed his pain and thirst, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Milene pulled her nipple from the wounded soldier's mouth and ordered all the nurses in the care team to do the same, providing their own breast milk to any soldier who needed water. Ten women, each with twenty large, white breasts, patrolled the room, and whenever they found a soldier on the verge of death, they would put their nipples in his mouth and let him suckle. Although the twenty nipples soon became red, swollen, and painful, many soldiers survived as a result.

Dawn was approaching, and the fighting showed no signs of stopping. On the contrary, the Germans were gradually gaining the upper hand and began to launch offensives from the station, forcing the Soviets to defend their starting points.

As a large number of wounded Soviet soldiers returned to the battlefield immediately, the Germans seemed to have become aware of the presence of the 557th Field Medical Team and began to intermittently shell the area with 105mm howitzers. Shells exploded one after another near the field hospital, dust falling from the ceiling onto the elderly women. Undeterred, they calmly bandaged and treated the wounded.

The German shelling intensified, blocking the route to the train station. Half of the reinforcements arriving at the station were wiped out before they even reached their positions. Supply reinforcements were also almost completely cut off, especially urgently needed blood plasma and alcohol; without these, the wounded could not receive treatment. The medical team's blood plasma and alcohol supplies had been depleted overnight, and finally, at seven o'clock in the morning, both were exhausted. The medical team had been working continuously for seventeen hours. The shelling continued, and the wounded, suffering from severe blood loss, urgently needed transfusions. Looking at the pale faces of the wounded, Yelena was frantic with worry.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. Yelena suddenly remembered that due to the intense military life of the past three months, her menstrual cycle had become very irregular and the flow was very heavy. An idea flashed through her mind like lightning. She called Mara and told her her idea. Mara was stunned for a moment. Although she thought the idea was a bit crazy, she could only give it a try. So she called two nurses and brought them to the corner with instruments.

Yelena pulled down her pants, then swept her large white underwear down her waist, immediately revealing her pubic area covered in thick, dark hair. Yelena spread her legs, and Mara placed a funnel over her vulva, a tube connected to a blood plasma bottle. Soon, dark red menstrual blood gushed from Yelena's uterus in a torrent.

One blood plasma bottle was quickly filled, and the nurse replaced it with another, filling three bottles in total. The bleeding only gradually stopped on the fourth bottle. At this point, Yelena was extremely weak due to blood loss. A sudden heat in her lower body caused her to lose control of her bladder, and bright yellow urine flowed through the plastic tube into the bottle, gradually filling it.

Mara ordered the nurse to take the blood plasma bottle to the wounded who urgently needed transfusions, and to use the full bottle of Yelena's urine as a substitute for alcohol to disinfect their wounds. She took off her pants, imitating Yelena, and placed the funnel over her pubic hairy vulva, waiting for her menstrual flow. Soon, dark red blood gushed from her vagina. Her menstrual flow wasn't heavy, but because she had held it in all night, her last urination filled two bottles.

As she dragged her weak body back to the operating table, she looked up and saw the second squad leader, Louise, standing before her with a blood plasma bottle, silently nodding. Mara understood Louise's meaning and stepped aside. Louise took off her pants, spread her legs, and placed the funnel over her vulva.

Louise did it, Milenny did it, Daniang and Cheng Suyun did it—thirty-three old women did it all, driven by hatred, courage, and love. Six thousand milliliters of menstrual blood from an elderly woman flowed through the IV tubing into the wounded soldiers' veins and hearts, bringing strength and the belief in defeating fascism to each one.

Snow-white cotton balls, stained with bright yellow urine, were wiped on the wounds; the stench reminded countless men of their wives, mothers, daughters, their hometowns, and their happy lives, igniting a burning hatred and rage against the fascist invaders who had destroyed their happiness.

The sun rose higher, but the sky around the train station remained dark, obscured by the thick smoke of battle. A convoy of reinforcing T-34 tanks rumbled past the field hospital, the ground trembling slightly. The Soviet and German forces engaged in a fierce artillery battle, temporarily suppressing the German artillery. Large quantities of urgently needed medical supplies were delivered to the 557th Platoon, but anesthetics and sulfonamides were conspicuously absent.

Without sulfonamides, the wounds treated by the wounded would become infected and fester in a short time. The anesthetics had been sustained by substitutes since the previous night, and now the elderly women only had three menstrual belts left. Yelena had to order strict control over the use of menstrual belts, but the sulfonamides were dwindling rapidly and uncontrollably.

Yelena directly called Chuikov to explain the severity of the medical shortage, but Chuikov was helpless. The train carrying medical supplies had been destroyed by German bombers en route, and all the supplies that could be collected from logistics had been sent to the 557th Platoon.

By 1 PM, the Soviet army had finally regained the initiative. The German armored regiment had been annihilated by T-34s, all routes to reinforce the train station had been blocked, and a small number of German remnants were putting up a stubborn resistance using the advantageous terrain, repelling several Soviet assaults. The large number of wounded accelerated the consumption of sulfonamides; by 2:30 PM, all sulfonamides were used up, and all thirty-three menstrual belts were also unusable. The 557th Platoon was once again out of ammunition and supplies.

In this critical moment, Louise came up with a solution again. She and her father had hunted bears together in Alaska. To prevent the bears from being startled by their human scent, they would smear their entire bodies with animal dung before each hunt, which had an unexpected effect—their skin became incredibly soft and smooth. While studying at Harvard Medical School, she had also heard from her professors about ancient Egyptian women using crocodile and camel dung as cosmetics.

She shared her idea with Platoon Leader Yelena, who had also smeared herself with wolf dung while hunting wolves with her husband in Siberia. Unexpectedly, her cesarean section scars gradually faded. Hearing Louise's idea resonated with her own experience, she decided to adopt her suggestion. Yelena

summoned ten elderly women from the nursing team, including Milenny, and gave each of them a wide-mouthed jar. She told them: "Now that sulfonamide is used up, we must use their feces to replace it to prevent infection of the wounded soldiers' wounds. Everyone, squat down and defecate immediately, the more the better."

After speaking, she went to the corner, took the lead, pulled down her pants, revealing two large, greasy, white buttocks, squatted down, aligned her anus with the wide-mouthed bottle, gritted her teeth, stretched her neck, closed her eyes, and strained outwards with all her might. Her sphincter muscles instantly relaxed, and with a loud "bang," accompanied by a loud fart, a large, golden-yellow turd shot out of her gray anus and plunged into the wide-mouthed bottle, splattering excrement all over the ground, and a stench immediately filled the air.

Seeing their platoon leader take the lead, the others also loosened their belts, pulled down their pants, squatted on the wide-mouthed bottles, and groaned, trying to clear out their accumulated waste. They hadn't rested for a long time, and their stomachs were full of feces, not only plentiful but also incredibly foul-smelling.

Nurse Nataya, whose stomach was already weak, was further aggravated by the exertion of running around, drinking cold water, and eating hard bread. She couldn't hold it in any longer, and as soon as she squatted down, a torrent of yellowish-brown, watery stool gushed from her loosened anus, like corn porridge being poured into a wide-mouthed jar.

Another nurse, Postava from Romania, suffered from constipation. She had barely managed to pass the first part of her stool when the pain in her anus became

unbearable. She struggled desperately, but the stool wouldn't come out, causing her tears to stream down her face. Just then, Platoon Leader Yelena finished defecating and pulled up her pants. She checked the amount of stool each nurse had produced. When she reached Postava and saw her suffering, she asked her what was wrong. Learning that she was constipated, Yelena squatted down, leaned over, and gently massaged Postava's anus with a finger. However, the massage caused friction between the rectum and the stool, resulting in Postava crying out in pain, but she still couldn't pass stool.

She couldn't pull it out, nor could she retract it; her anus felt like it was being torn apart by this turd. Seeing the situation was dire, Yelena didn't care about anything else. She moved the wide-mouthed bottle away from under Postava's buttocks, knelt beneath her, and extended her warm, pink tongue to lick Postava's vulva.

Postava often engaged in oral sex with her pet wolfhound at home, making her particularly sensitive to tongues, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of vaginal fluid. Yelena caught her fluids, lubricated her anus with her fingers, and continued licking her vulva, even parting her thick labia with her hands to gently nibble at her purplish-red labia majora.

Postava was intensely stimulated, experiencing an extraordinary pleasure in her lower body. The ecstasy gradually built up within her. Suddenly, Yelena's tongue licked her clitoris, her most sensitive spot. She couldn't help but cry out, "Ah!" Her eyes rolled back, and her lower body instantly lost sensation. A wave of pleasure washed over her, her legs went weak, and

she collapsed to the ground, defecating and urinating simultaneously. Yelena couldn't dodge in time, and a long, thick piece of excrement fell into her mouth. She instinctively closed her mouth, biting off half of it, which she then swallowed. The other half rolled off her face and onto the ground. A loud fart followed, spraying her face with excrement, some of the mixed, runny feces also flowing onto her face, making it look like it was covered in a layer of beaten egg.

Yelena, ignoring the excrement on her face, quickly got up and directed the group to take the collected feces and urine to the pharmacist, Olefiona. Olefiona would mix the feces and urine to a suitable concentration and apply it to the wounds of the injured. Soon, the treatment could proceed smoothly again.

However, the amount of excrement from ten people was limited, and the medical team couldn't leave their posts for even a moment. So, Yelena directed the nursing team members, each carrying a large syringe filled with glycerin, to the operating table. While the medical team was performing surgery, they removed the pants of the elderly women in the medical team, inserted the syringes into their anuses, and injected glycerin. After a few minutes, the intestinal peristalsis mixed the feces and glycerin, and then they used the syringes to forcibly suck out large amounts of feces from their large intestines and send it to the pharmacist.

The anesthesia issue was also resolved: after the wounded soldier was brought to the operating table, when the chief surgeon ordered anesthesia, the strong and robust Louise lifted the petite Cheng Suyun, removed her boots, and brought her severely deformed feet to the wounded soldier's nose. The soldier, strongly stimulated by the old woman's fragrant feet, immediately fainted, and the doctor then began emergency treatment. After treating the wound, a thick layer of a mixture of feces and urine was applied, and then it was tightly wrapped with stockings.

The German army, as expected of battle-hardened troops, held off the Soviet forces inside the train station, fighting from 1 PM to 3 PM, and then from 3 PM to 6 PM. The Soviets launched eight consecutive assaults, all of which were thwarted.

General Paulus then deployed new elite troops to engage the Soviet blocking forces on the perimeter, attempting to break through the encirclement. Encouraged, the enemy inside the train station launched several counter-attacks, and the battle became a stalemate again.

The elderly women of the 557th Field Medical Platoon had been working continuously for twenty-seven hours without food or water by the operating table. Extremely exhausted, they gritted their teeth and continued to operate on and bandage the wounded.

Night fell once more, and the Stalingrad railway station was still ablaze. The Soviet attacks had finally exhausted the Germans' ammunition and supplies. After another fierce assault, the Soviets finally broke into the station, engaging the Germans in face-to-face hand-to-hand combat. This time, the Soviets did not send any more soldiers into the station, and the German reinforcements ceased their attack. Both sides seemed to be watching a routine killing spree in an ancient Roman arena.

The gunfire gradually subsided, replaced by the sounds of rifle butts smashing skulls, bayonets and shovels hacking through flesh and bone, and occasionally, the explosions of grenades—someone had perished alongside the enemy—along with curses, screams, and the desperate, agonizing cries of the dying. These cries echoed through the night, sending chills down one's spine.

Finally, after a long, agonizing scream, the world fell silent. The incessant gunfire of the past two days ceased, and a deathly silence weighed heavily on everyone's hearts—every Russian and every German.

This silence lasted for an unknown amount of time. Just as everyone's nerves were about to snap, suddenly, someone seemed to see something, pointing to the silhouette of the tall clock tower of the train station in the firelight, and shouted, "Look!"

All eyes turned to that spot. What was there?

There was a man.

He held a bright red flag, waving it excitedly atop the clock tower!

It was a Red Army soldier!

Listen! He was shouting, "Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" All the Soviet soldiers around the train station cheered excitedly, their voices like a raging torrent, wave after wave, so loud that the nearby German soldiers felt as if they were being overwhelmed.

A captain rushed into the field hospital of the 557th Field Medical Platoon, shouting, "We've won! Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" All the wounded and medical platoon members cheered and embraced each other. Yelena hugged the captain tightly, tears streaming down her face.

The battle was finally over, but they couldn't rest yet, because more wounded would be carried out of the train station soon. For thirty hours straight, the nurses and doctors of the 557th Field Medical Platoon had neither eaten nor drunk nor rested. Countless wounded soldiers escaped the clutches of death in their hands, and after rest, returned to the battlefield to fight the fascists. And in the following two hundred days and nights, many more such days awaited them.

The Battle of Stalingrad lasted for more than seven months, from the autumn of 1942 to the spring of 1943. During this time, the train station changed hands thirteen times. Wherever the fighting was fiercest, the elderly women of the 557th Field Medical Platoon were there. Affectionately known by the soldiers as the "White Roses of Stalingrad," they were as famous as Lilia, the "White Rose of Stalingrad." Countless times, the soldiers charged, shouting, "For the beautiful Russian flowers, charge!"

Their heroic deeds ensured that many wounded soldiers returned to the battlefield immediately, guaranteeing General Chuikov sufficient troops to implement his counter-offensive plan. In the spring of 1943, the Soviet army finally completed its counter-offensive, withstanding Guderian's reinforcements and encircling the Sixth Army within Stalingrad. Hitler's urgent promotion of Paulus to Field Marshal could not save it from its fate.

Ultimately, the Sixth Army was annihilated, with the Germans losing 330,000 men and a large amount of equipment and supplies. Paulus and 26 other high-ranking officers were captured alive by the Soviets and later died silently in a Siberian labor camp.

After the Battle of Stalingrad, the German army was severely weakened and forced to shift from strategic offense to strategic defense, thus beginning its overall collapse. The Battle of Stalingrad became a glorious turning point in the great World Anti-Fascist War.

For their outstanding performance, all the medical personnel of the 557th Field Medical Platoon received a personal telegram of commendation from Comrade Stalin after the Battle of Stalingrad, and each was awarded the Order of the Red Banner. Platoon leader Elena, for her skillful command, received the Order of Lenin, which Chuikov personally pinned on her large, swaying breasts.

[The End]

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