My Platoon, My Squad Chapter 41???? We were in the river water**, sometimes a wave that didn't look very big could engulf us all, and we had to hold on to each other tightly. The Japanese army that had broken through the South Tianmen Gate appeared on the riverbank and mountain foot where we had drifted away from, they shot at us like a floating target, but in this spinning world and under the heavenly wrath, the shooting with 6.5mm small-caliber rifles looked as ridiculous as a cartoon.

  But the bullets still bloomed among us, sometimes one shot could pierce through several people. The hand grenades thrown by the grenade launcher blasted out water columns. We silently passed these things at the speed of Nujiang River.

  "Throw all the dead bodies overboard! We're going to sink!"

  I clutched someone's hand tightly in mine, and when I looked up, it was the first colleague who had responded to the call to escape to the shore, the guy who had been with me from the refugee camp to here. But he was already dead. I found the bullet hole on his chest, the bloodstains had long been washed away by the river water - after confirming his death, I pushed him off the raft.

  "What about the bean pancake?!"

  The snake's butt uncertainly said: "Who was pressed down?"

  No one cared about that, but Mi Long was such a person, he would ask tirelessly until the end of the world, "Where is that bean pancake?"

  "Not spicy" shouted: "I've been beaten to death by you!"?

  "Being treated as dead and pushed down by you!"

  We drift on the hysterical cries of this abyss.

  I leaned against the dead body, Dr. Hao was beside me, he grabbed me, my other hand was empty, soaking in the water, that hand had been used to push down the corpse of a colleague.

  The shell is still firing and splashing water, but who cares.

  I stared blankly as the South Gate disappeared into the distance, I was a bit dazed and it became a distant silhouette.

  Apart from the sounds of gunfire and artillery, I heard a voice coming from the river valley, clear and distant - it was actually the song we sang to prove our identity to the river defense:

  "Don't you see, Han Zhongjun, a young general with a weak crown, was captured and begged for a long rope?"

  Don't you see, Ban Dingyuan, lightly riding a horse to expedite war clouds in a distant land!

  I am not surprised, because all the strength I have left is being used to be bewildered.

  This is an illusion, I know that. I fainted from exhaustion, hunger, pain, fear, and vomiting. In short, there are many possible reasons why people faint, and I must have fainted too.

  Because I know the people who sang this song are all dead.

  I looked around at the people beside me, under me, and on top of me. Maybe they were battle-hardened, or rich in experience, or maybe heaven just pitied them. More likely it was a combination of all these factors. The bunch of guys from the reception center who had been stewed together with pork and noodles - Huo Shouyi, A Yi, Mi Long, Bu La, She Pi Gou - were still by my side.

  The only ones left are by my side, with their mouths shut tight, they've all learned to behave. In fact, even the confused dragon knows that when we open our mouths, it's just to make some meaningless sounds, complaining, grumbling, begging, but never this...

  But the sound continued, only it was now distant and no longer majestic but faint:

  "A man should be brave and resolute in the face of danger; how can he let his life be misled by Confucianism?"

  The situation is as precarious as a pile of eggs, with messengers rushing about without a moment's pause!

  The river water rushes against us, we don't know if we are crying or not.

  The bamboo raft finally got stuck in the crevices of the reefs on the east bank, with a kind of dying fatigue. We hastily disembarked, and the reason for this rush was that the battered bamboo raft was about to fall apart, and when we climbed onto the reef, several bamboo poles had already fallen into the river; secondly, because a small group of Japanese soldiers who were pursuing us without giving up continued to open fire, although the shooting from the opposite bank had lost its accuracy.

  Among us, the physically strongest dragon pulled Dr. Hao down from the raft, even he was so exhausted that one sentence had to be said in several breaths, we simply couldn't make a sound, busy escaping the shooting range and vomiting out the river water from our stomachs.

  "Down... down... hand... give me..." A bullet whizzed past him, far away, and the dragon began to laugh weakly. "This gun... they're also exhausted... vomiting blood... not even a fart's worth..."

  "Still panting...panting...can't catch breath...you're still showing off here..."

  "Come on... come on... let's go."

  We stumbled, dragged ourselves, crawled ashore, the Japanese were cursing, firing, but it was hard to imagine that someone as exhausted as us could still shoot accurately, bullets whizzed past in a way that made our eyes widen - if we had any thoughts left, but we tried to move to where the bullets couldn't reach, because if they hit our bodies, they were just more bullets.

  The snake's butt and the mourning gate dragged on, but that guy suddenly broke free. With one struggle, those two completely lost their balance and fell to the ground. Such a big movement made us think he was hit by a bullet. We watched with bated breath as the guy lay on the ground, then used great willpower to get up, not getting up, but kneeling down. Bullets were flying all around, and the Japanese had caught their breath and started adjusting their aim, but that guy was kneeling in the direction of the South Heaven Gate, further and further away, amidst the increasingly dense hail of bullets.

  A bullet had just struck the rock in front of him, but he seemed oblivious to it as he tapped a long head on the bullet hole. His lips were moving, muttering something, and we stared at him blankly.

  He knelt for a long time, miraculously not being hit. Perhaps it was so long that even the Japanese remembered, they seemed to respect the dead too. It was so long that we also stared blankly at the South Gate of Heaven.

  One day and one night, a whole team was abandoned there.

  "Kang Ya is still on top," said Bula.

  "Lucky it was buried," said Dr. Hao.

  I remained silent, while the kneeling person began to struggle with all his might to get up. Now we know that even the seemingly tireless guy will decline, he could hardly lift his own body, Mì Lóng put down the veterinarian and went with Lóu Mén Xīng to help him up.

  He walked two steps and then broke free, walking along the rugged riverbank by himself.

  "Go home," he said.

  We were walking in the woods, our footsteps as if measuring the road crookedly. None of us could walk a straight path. Each person's legs seemed like noodles. We often fell down for no reason.

  I pulled up Hao Shouyi again, who had fallen once more, and found that the old man was crying for no reason.

  "Twenty-two." He wept as if these were the most heartbreaking words in the world.

  "Come on, let's go."

  The old man was still muttering: "Only twenty-two came back. More than a thousand people."

  "Let's go."

  We continue on our journey, falling and getting back up.

  The mountain forest had come to an end, and the road was now wide enough for cars to pass through. Ah Yi collapsed on the ground again, staring blankly at a large tree in front of him. I dragged him past, and gave him a kick with my foot, which was also a form of assistance.

  "Annoying... look." he said.

  I looked where he did, and saw a weathered old wooden sign nailed to the ancient tree, almost hidden by branches and vines. An arrow pointed, then "Zen Dai".

  We just stared blankly.

  "Zen... is this considered going home?" A Yi asked.

  We stared blankly for a while, then... continued on our way, falling and getting back up.

  The labyrinthine bluestone road, the frequent rain and fog, and the fresh but melancholic air... We've come from the inaccessible hot springs and Yunnan jade, thinking of the enthusiastic but unenthusiastic Zen master... Is this what it means to be back home?

  Zenda is a city without walls, remote, dangerous and rich in resources, making people feel that they have nothing to do with war for many years. The houses in the suburbs and the fields outside the city appear simultaneously in our line of sight, artificial softness and greenery washing away the vast greenness of the primeval forest that we have already seen into our brain marrow. We stumble towards our destination, I have become a complete cripple, even the Y-shaped stick in my hand is not cut but picked up, we don't have the strength to trample ants to death.

  It has been a thousand years since the first resident of Zenda laid the first volcanic stone as the foundation for the road. For a thousand years, Zenda has known no war; its stones have been used to pave roads, not build city walls. The land is so fertile that you can stick in a chopstick and it will grow into a bamboo forest... Does this count as coming home?

  Then we were scared.

  The first rumble of drums came from those buildings, and it was definitely a mix of several types of drums: the intricate Han-style drums, the bronze drums of the border mountain people, but now they were undoubtedly beating out the same rhythm: the rhythm of war.

  We stood still, staring at the row of buildings, even the dead were shocked and unsettled. We all felt that a patch of extremely discordant yellow earth would burst out from this green and cyan stone, either riding a bicycle or driving a tank.

  "Come on, come on, comfort us, he's also half dead," "...It's okay, it's okay."

  But the drum sounded again, and this time it didn't stop. From the buildings in the suburbs, a whole bunch of colorful things that were blocked by the buildings earlier poured out. The small drums were hung from the waist, while the big drums were placed on the backs of cows and horses or carried on small carts. There were many flowers here, and the Zen masters held flowers in their hands instead of any symbolic texts. So we couldn't figure out what these guys who looked like rioters wanted to do either.

  Then a loud noise, after the seven five cannons were fired, the sound shook the fields, and we looked around in shock, but no one launched an attack, and no bullets or shells flew towards us.

  He comforted us by saying "he was also startled", "raise your gun, it's a big raise".

  The man with the gun lowered his big bird-shooting fire tube to reload, which was a signal, and then that group of people holding flowers, carrying drums, waving crutches and hoes charged at us.

  We don't ask about external affairs, and we didn't know that for half a month, the people of Zhen'da were like ants on the verge of being scorched to death by the scorching sun. They wanted to move the whole city, burning Zhen'da to ashes, but they also thought about whether they should burn their ancestral temples and tombs, which had been built for thousands of years, as well as the ancient trees planted by their ancestors. The people of Zhen'da looked at the volcanic mountains, wetlands, hot springs, jade, iron ore, and giant trees that would turn into jade, these mythical creations wouldn't grow legs to migrate with them.

  But the river defense that was originally thought to be unstable was actually held, and the Zentang people found telescopes, binoculars, and astronomical mirrors on the east bank to observe - they had heroes.

  But our hero, seeing people rushing towards him, went weak in the knees and knelt down.

  The dragon kicked him and said, "You're stealing people's chickens and touching people's dogs again?"

  He muttered: "This attitude... even a stolen cow wouldn't be so brazen."

  Then we were surrounded, beaten and scolded, with old men using their white beards to whip us, old women pinching us with their long fingernails, young men punching us, and young girls tearing at our clothes. A whole bunch of flowers was thrown on our heads, the drumbeats were so loud that they shook our souls - the people of Zhandaxi have mixed blood from ethnic minorities, are not good at speaking, but love to revel wildly.

  And then, with a final "Hoo-ah!" he flung himself down upon us, besieged as we were, and in the midst of the strange cries his sleeves were torn off by someone who took them away to keep as a memento - he stretched out his nose towards the sky, which really looked just like a dog's, and he was also violently wiggling his nostrils.

  Then the guy let out a strange cry: "Baozi!"?

  It's all over——I'm talking about our heroic image, his strange cry is equal to the order, his order leads to action, we separate the crowd in the midst of flowers and clubs, rushing towards the source of that smell.

  That baozi shop was really ordinary, just setting up a stall in front of the small gate to do some small business. The owner who sells baozi is still jumping with excitement wanting to see some excitement, but seeing people passing by, twenty or so heads saying whatever is fine as long as they don't look like upright walking animals rushing towards his goods.

  That guy let out a strange cry and hid behind his door, never showing his face again.

  So we successfully occupied the tray of buns, which was as big as a desktop. If two trays could be sold in one day, it would be considered good. We got our hands on the last tray. The snake's tail stretched out and flipped over the tray cover, so we stared at the contents inside with wide eyes.

  Only the ghost knows who reached out first, anyway I stretched out my hand and in the dark I grabbed onto the hand of the Mourning Star who was holding two wrapped buns, and I almost took a bite of his hand thinking it was a bun.

  We were chewing with our mouths, grasping with our hands, and staring at the colleagues' chews, all around was silent as a crow, even the drummers had stopped long ago, the whole Zen team was stunned, watching their hero rob the baozi shop——but who cares.

  He's dead, he's dead, his eyes are still staring at us, the first bun is already gone, the second one has only a corner left, and the third one has been bitten twice - at this time someone pulled his pants, he lowered his head, a little kid holding a bowl of boiled red-skinned eggs.

  The dragon was also pulled by someone, an old woman hunched over, the dragon was so embarrassed that he could clearly see a pair of old and deformed hands holding a Qinghua plate with a whole steamed big pork knuckle inside.

  I caught a whiff of the fragrance behind me and turned around, the owner of the scent didn't dare to touch me. It was a young girl who had been waiting in her room, her bowl contained a small handful of pine nuts, peeled, I felt embarrassed for her because it was undoubtedly she who had cracked them open with her mouth.

  Right, we are heroes now, and heroes don't need to rush for steamed buns.

  We stood there, embarrassed to receive it, and also embarrassed to put the buns in our hands back into the messy basket. Luckily, that old face saved us, he was called "Zhuang Shi", this kind of title is only used by a very old man, but the big bowl in his hand was empty.

  Die die die, started dry laughing, "Don't laugh at me for being drunk and sleeping on the battlefield, brothers have had enough of American canned goods and British biscuits all along the way, what we've been thinking about is our Zen Da's big meat-filled buns!"

  Lucky for him, he could say it out loud, this life was starving, we stared at him, our eyes as if wanting to kick out flying feet, but we still had to follow his generous wave of hand, otherwise everyone would have no way to get off the stage.

  "Come on, eat up, just finish what's in your hands and that'll ease the homesickness of us brothers." He said with a thick face.

  We hastily stuffed our mouths, while secretly rolling our eyes at him and wanting to snatch the big pork knuckle, but also not daring to reach out, we suddenly felt embarrassed.

  "That old fellow suddenly stretched out his hand, and his thumb reached straight to the tip of the nose of a half-dead beggar who was struggling with a steamed bun. 'Magnificent! I see you off, I see you back, when you leave, the clouds cover the moon, when you return, the coffin is empty, I've spent my whole life as a parasite, only today do I understand that "the horse's hide wraps the corpse" is a great tragedy, not a heroic spirit. — Come!'"

  I swallowed my bun and glared at the old man who was getting more and more excited, but those guys' expressions weren't much better. If they came to pick a fight, I'm afraid Ah Yi's temper would surpass this old fool's. Not having fought before is one thing, but the old man's next move scared us all - he lifted his big bowl, and the young man beside him picked up the wine jug, pouring wine as if it were water... that bowl of wine must have held at least three or four catties.

  The old man now has some difficulty holding his bowl, "Yesterday's affairs are like a sand field, today you can just get drunk and sleep at home, a wise man, a gentleman, won't laugh at you."

  We're at it again, this time not choking but scaring each other to death. Everyone has a heart that's about to jump out of their chest, but the chances of anyone dying from this are slim. And that guy is smiling and holding out the bowl, showing off his shamelessness outside of battle.

  "Dead, dead, take it over and say: 'Thank you for the old gentleman's kindness. The top is dedicated to the heroic spirit of the war dead, the bottom is dedicated to the surviving spirit of the survivors, and this one in between is dedicated to the conscience of humanity.'"

  We watched him pour half of it on the ground, half in the air, and then swing the remaining half in a bowl to waste another half. In the end, there was less than a mouthful left, but he still managed to choke on it for half a day. Finally, he had the nerve to show off an empty bowl with only a few drops left.

  The old man stared blankly for a while, looking at his own feet, and was suddenly splashed with half a bowl of wine, "...... What vigor! What a capacity!"

  That's just a signal, and then the drumming noise hurts our eardrums again.

  A large bird gun fired into the sky with a loud boom.

  The dragon put down his gun and started shouting: "Where's my wife?!"

  We stared at the fool standing on the half-wall, he was heartbroken as if drunk. We were still blocked in front of the baozi shop and couldn't move forward a single step, but it didn't matter, anyway we didn't know where to go next, so we simply sat down on the ground like beggars, enjoying the food and drink sent by Zenda, and who knows when our next meal would be.