My platoon leader My platoon Chapter 68 Let's find that Japanese soldier, not with our eyes but with our ears. He was sitting there like a pile of rags, almost blending in with the rocks. But he was swaying back and forth, humming a tune, yi ya ya, humming a Japanese song that was so ugly it could kill.

  We pressed our bodies lower, so his background was the river water and ripples, very clear. More than a dozen gun sights were locked onto him, we pulled the trigger at a distance that would not be knocked down by a single grenade, and ensured that he could be turned into a sieve in half a second.

  That guy was still warbling away, with an air of having lost his father and mother, and as if the whole family had died out just as he began to wail; and we then started to think that the song did have a bit of a nice ring to it.

  "Damn it! I've finally lost my patience. 'Take him away. Watch out for his hand grenade.'"

  Funeral Star was about to go and execute this order, just as he stood up, the pile of rags also quietly fell down. He fell to the ground without a sound, just like a pile of cloth falling to the ground. Funeral Star looked at us for a moment before going over to use the back of his knife to flip that guy over. He didn't use much strength, but the Japanese guy was already very light and was quietly flipped over by him.

  The Mourning Star made a brief investigation and concluded: "Dead. Wrist cut off." Then he put away his knife, turned around and walked away in silence - for some reason, this evening was a bit sad.

  I had seen the corpse by moonlight, it was like a bundle of dry firewood, its clothes had long since rotted away in the jungle, and it was only tied to its body with rattan strips and ropes to cover up its last shame. Its arteries had been cut off before we arrived, and the blood flowed into the river water, dyeing a large area red.

  But what left the deepest impression on me was that dirty face with countless tear stains.

  I looked up and glanced at the soldiers surrounding me, mostly new recruits, many of whom were seeing one of their enemies for the first time in their lives.

  The reflection of the river water exposed us, and the heavy machine on the South Heaven Gate began to sweep towards us. We started to withdraw from this exposed beach without any cover. I noticed that Man Han ran two steps and then ran back to drag the corpse - which would hardly slow him down because it was too light.

  He died and I found a comfortable place to sit with him. He was smoking and intended to give me one mouthful, but after thinking about it, I refused.

  The new recruits are digging again, if they could use their guns as skillfully as their shovels, the battle would have been won long ago - but this time they're not digging mouse holes, they're digging graves. The dragon doesn't care, lying scattered around, looking at the commotion with disdain.

  The moles did something I didn't expect, they buried the three Japanese devils. It's said that the Japanese army would build a tomb for our soldiers who fought them fiercely. But the moles seemed to sympathize with those who had suffered at their hands. I watched as they carefully patted and flattened the soil on top of the grave, there was no tombstone, most of them couldn't write, but they still wanted to put a few stones on top, the Manchu and Han people also piled up some dirt and inserted a few blades of grass. After finishing all this, he picked a few large leaves from the tree and rushed into the thicket - he was suffering from dysentery.

  I started chuckling and said, "Not like a human being, but sometimes still doing some human-like things."

  "What's going on?"

  "It's all going to be buried anyway, even when I die, someone will bury it."

  "Die, die! 'Your mouth is too poisonous, and you're recklessly sending soldiers to their deaths. I think they'd rather bury the Japanese devils than bury you.'"

  I'm a bit choked with rage, so I had to shout at the groundhogs: "Don't kneel! What's buried underneath isn't worth your kneeling!"

  "Soft egg: 'Turtle just knelt down.'"

  Hehe, died and died just happily.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Die die die: 'Nothing. A bunch of new recruits who think they're so capable.'"

  I rarely nodded repeatedly: "Uh-huh, uh-huh."

  "Die, die! It's really better than when we first came. This is purgatory. After experiencing the trials of purgatory, they can still think about burying Japan's dead, which means their courage hasn't been shattered. When they see living Japanese people, they dare to fight."

  "You just deceive them. They've never seen a ghost before. You show them all these fake ones, and they're not scared to death, starved to death or beaten to death. Of course, they think there's nothing to be afraid of. Wait till they see the real thing, then they'll know. You've ruined them."

  "Maybe you're just scared out of your wits? Like you said, we've seen it before. The Japanese love to use poison gas, and after they're done, they clean up and say they're invincible. Maybe he's just bluffing too? It's all the same, when it comes down to it, there are people who don't want to live. But nobody isn't afraid of death."

  I thought for a moment: "Maybe."

  Die die just very pleased. Really very pleased, hehe delighted: "That is to say I did the right thing."

  I muttered: "Against the ball."

  "Die die die: 'That's right, don't add those messy words.' He looked at me: 'Doing the right thing is very important.'"

  I muttered: "You're right, maybe I'm wrong. I want to eat Beijing's fermented tofu so badly, but you'll probably say, take the stool away."

  "Right, right! You didn't spare any effort on this word either." He emphasized again with a smile: "Doing it right is very important."

  "Fart."

  I'm not refuting, really not refuting, but more like feeling depressed. But after a while, he's laughing again with a "heh heh". I glare at him and spit on the ground a wad of saliva that I didn't want to spit out.

  "Hey, speaking of farting, let's make a bet. You say that guy won't wipe his butt after taking a dump."

  I glanced at Ma Han, who was crouching in the bushes with a painful expression on his face due to his dysentery, and his rifle leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree.

  "Is it not enough that I wipe your mouth for you? I bet from now on I'll be alone, no need to be your attendant."

  "Die die die: 'Is it safe to be far away from me?'"

  "It's not all. Out of sight, out of mind."

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  I also spent a lot of effort and finally faced the so-called reality. I didn't bother to correct, nor did I feel like saying anything, because I knew he also knew.

  "Die die die: 'Bet it.'?"

  Then he burst out laughing, because after finishing the Manchu Hanban, the first thing to do was not to wipe his butt, but to pick up the gun leaning beside him and hang it on his shoulder, accompanied by a suspicious glance back.

  I was furious: "This doesn't count! You're making everyone think there's a ghost behind them, coming to slit their throat. They're all going crazy!"

  "Die, die!" "Not enough!" He raised his gun and fired a blank shot into the woods, shouting in the direction of the shooter: "Who's there?!"

  "I loudly protested: 'You're back again?!'"

  This protest is always ineffective, dead and gone in one direction. With a group of blind followers, they rushed forward hastily. I limped along, with Full Han tying his pants while jumping up and down, we followed the monkeys in the forest who couldn't sleep again, this kind of charging was destined to continue until dawn, strengthening our bodies, training our vigilance, everyone was silent as a cicada in winter, until he was satisfied.

  Die die shouting loudly in my ear: "Bet or not. I bet he'll be carrying a gun next time he takes a shit."

  I was so angry that I shouted loudly: "You're on! Let's bet!"

  We stumbled back and forth on the battlefield, utterly exhausted, with no distinction between life and death.

  Man Han quickly ran towards the thicket.

  Die die die poked me: "Hey, hey, you want freedom now."

  This time, Man Han crouched down in the thicket with a gun, I cursed a sentence to the sky, slammed my hand and jumped into our trench, "Haha, I won again."

  He won again. He had an army of tense, neurotic soldiers. Yu Xiaoqing took away the whole world, and he got only dust that was valuable to him.

  We are dismantling houses, to be exact, we are dismantling the civilian houses that were bombed into ruins by the Japanese military into fragments. Then use these fragments to build a house that we can live in - but now we are mainly busy with the previous part of the process. We cherish as much as possible those beds that have lost half, stools that lack legs, tables with multiple corners, and scorched quilts, because we have nothing, all of which will be our family's belongings in the future.

  Green hills and clear waters, the majestic scenery of Zhongshan Slope and Hengluan Mountain makes us outsiders feel a deep sense of desolation. Even if we are newcomers or illiterate rough men, we can't help but feel the weight of three lifetimes and nine deaths.

  Bean cake climbed high and shouted: "Want Ma Ge! Paohui Tuan, it's really a stepmother's child!"

  The devil knows what's wrong with him, suddenly shouting like that. After shouting, he still had to busy himself wiping his eyes, looking at us in a panic, as if he thought he was going crazy himself. We applauded warmly. Dou Bing smiled, flattered and surprised, "Nothing, nothing."

  The dragon suddenly started shouting: "Yu Xiaoqing, he is also a stepmother's child!"

  We don't bother with him, we work.

  The dragon's expectation fell through, so it could only shout in a low voice: "Get to work! Laborers, hurry up and get to work!"

  The person who shouted the loudest was usually the one who did the least, the dragon shouted and retreated, retreating all the way to the broken wall, we also pretended not to see it, that guy went in and never came out again.

  Choose three people who should not be offended. The guys from the Paohui gang will definitely say Yu Xiaoqing, Yu Xiaoqing, is it him again? Damn Yu Xiaoqing. I believe that being self-reliant is his catchphrase. But the entire Yu clan seems to have received a command at the same time, united in their determination to forget those stepchildren on Fuzi Slope.

  I watched Deadla Deadla from afar, as he emerged from the distant grass thicket, carrying my rifle on his back. Occasionally, he would take it down and fire a shot into the thicket with a "bang", then leisurely put the rifle back over his shoulder. The dog meat would charge towards where he had just fired, usually ending up empty-handed. Several cars sped by on the road, passing by the grass thicket where Deadla Deadla was tinkering, but that didn't concern us at all - they were just passing through to Henglang Mountain, incidentally spraying low-quality gasoline and dust all over Deadla Deadla's face, making him look even more like a down-and-out poor man from Zenda City. All Deadla Deadla could do was scratch his head and stare blankly.

  No one will come to our campsite again, and no one will ever come. You look forward to seeing the increasingly large car head, but you must see the farting car ass below. We are like the ancient wild people who have been hiding on the flagpole slope since the flood, lying in the wet mud with the rotten wood.

  He's dead, he's dead, he can't wait any longer. His butt is sticking up high in the air as he rummages through the bushes for his prey, maybe hitting it or maybe not. After a while, he comes out of the bushes with empty hands and a disappointed face, tripping over the tangled grass.

  Die, die, it's not working, we have to build a house, at least there should be a substitute in the trenches. The division naturally said that there were no materials, and the die-die had to dig out the ruins of the city wall blown up by the Japanese artillery.

  I and Not Spicy quietly walked around the broken wall, looking at what the Lizard was busy with. The guy was curled up in a place where no one could see, hammering and chiseling away, making a 50-caliber shell into a small doll, made it look smiling and pretty, but also a bit creepy like a Halloween pumpkin head.

  The dragon misses home. Although he is the one closest to home among us.

  I shouted with Not Spicy, and we poured a basket of soil over the wall, burying the comfortably lying dragon half alive. We screamed and laughed wildly, as if all the good luck in the world had fallen on our heads. A few seconds later, the dragon burst out and we started running - Not Spicy betrayed me, he ran faster than me, of course, he would run faster than a cripple.

  "You can't run faster than a cripple! Bullying a cripple..."

  What a waste of effort. The dragon easily knocked me down and stepped on me with one foot. Not even bothering to run, it turned its head back and burst into loud laughter, as if all the good fortune in the world had fallen onto its head once again.

  "Brother Mí Lóng! Uncle Mí Lóng! I'm 25 now!"

  The dragon looked down on him with disdain: "You're only 25? You're just a kid."

  I continued to plead: "Young master is twenty-five today."

  "Dragon: 'Oh, then we have to give a big gift.'"

  Then he started kicking my butt and counting "one, two, three, four", apparently planning to kick twenty-five times.

  The worst part is that he's also good at math, and his calculation method is like this: "... seventeen, eighteen, twelve, eleven..."?

  The confused dragon started yelling: "What's the total number of them?"

  Not spicy: "One! One!"?

  Then the dragon started "one, two, three, four" and kicked again. The guy kicked lightly for him, but heavily for me, I laughed and cried out in pain, and later I covered my face and wailed.

  The dragon was somewhat dissatisfied: "This guy is always talking but never taking action, it turns out that when he gets hurt, he wants to cry."

  He then threw me there, took two steps with a humph, and forgot that he was also one of the culprits. He followed with a chuckle, but unfortunately, the dragon's pounce was too early, so the two of them started another round of chasing.

  I let go of my hands covering my face, I was laughing strangely, just imitating a crying voice.

  No one applauded, only I myself was surprised to hear that I could still make such a sound. Who can tell whether the cry at birth is a cry or a laugh?

  He hung the pot, set up the fire, and Snake's butt added all kinds of wild vegetables, miscellaneous grains, and whatnot to the pot. The bean pancake was blown to life with a bamboo tube. We waited eagerly to eat.

  He came over with a wild rabbit in his hand, and the snake's butt looked at it very carefully before taking it to skin.

  "Not spicy: 'Is that all? The dog meat is good, enough for a pot of noodles.'"

  "Die die die: "Well done, you're still better than dog meat."

  "Why doesn't it just grab a whole cow? This mouse isn't even enough for one person to eat."

  Hao Shouyi hastily went down to the snake's buttocks to take a look, he had the worst eyesight, "Is it a rabbit?"

  "Snake buttocks: 'It's a big waste, a huge waste. With this kind of eyesight, you're still saving lives and treating injuries?'"

  "Mystic Dragon: 'I want to go home.'"

  We stared at him with strange eyes. If he said it so bluntly, it must be what he wanted most and had to get without discounting. The fierce burning in our eyes was called jealousy, but he sat down with a cold face after patting the dog meat.

  "Are you going again?"

  She Pi Gu: "You've been back many times, huh?"

  "Mystic Dragon: 'I'm going to stock up.'"

  Krupp: "Can you eat it?"

  "Not spicy: 'Eat shit. He's selling ghostly goods.'"

  Tofu cake: "Mmm! Mmm!"

  "Hmm."

  The dragon glared at him with eyes as big as a cow's: "Huh? You think I'm going back to sleep with my wife? I haven't done anything for months!"

  "It's been four years."

  Hao Shouyi: "I've been doing this for over 20 years."

  Bean cake: "What's called getting things done?"

  We could only stand there, scratching our ears and cheeks in frustration. The parrot, perched on its swing, mimicked the voice of the old man, sighing: "Oh, children, oh, children."

  "Go on, go on."