Chapter 8: The Crime of Killing Prisoners (2)

  "Son of a bitch! Nobody move!" Chen Zizhong didn't dare to fire recklessly, the darkness made it easy for bullets to hit comrades.

  Ding Ruogang arrived with a machine gun, and the captured prisoner who had grabbed the gun ran while shooting back. A bullet knocked off his hat, and a blood groove was cut on his scalp.

  "Pull the bolt, fire quickly!" The warrior who was struggling with the captive for the gun cried out in pain, then fell silent. His broken ribs pierced his internal organs and he soon stopped breathing.

  Chen Zizhong went crazy, judging from the sound that the warrior was pressed to the ground, he shot at the swaying figure in the darkness: "Machine gun, shoot for me!"

  "Don't shoot!" Ding Ru shouted loudly.

  "Hit! Not leaving one standing!"

  The machine gunner, a seasoned veteran of three rows, unhesitatingly obeyed Chen Zizhong's orders and fired several sweeps at the black shadow. The branches on the roadside were scattered all over the place, and the bullets pierced through the prisoner's body, spitting out strings of sparks on the rocks.

  "Halt!" Just as Ding Ru had kicked the machine gunner, only one captive was left rolling down the snowy slope in the darkness.

  Chen Zizhong ignored Ding Rugang and took advantage of the fact that he was blocked by a boulder on the mountain slope, shooting him dead.

  "Bastard! Chen Dabao, you damn bastard!" Ding Rujin didn't have time to argue with Chen Zizhong, and rushed over to rescue the captives with a first-aid kit. He didn't know whether to admire or blame the machine gunner, as none of the dozen or so captives had survived.

  Ding Ru, who was wandering among the corpses in a daze, suddenly waved his fist and roared: "Chen Dabao, you dare to kill prisoners of war, I'm going to report you to the headquarters!"

  Chen Zizhong squatted beside the soldier whose face had been beaten out of shape, closing his eyes with his hand. He turned back in indignation: "I'll kill him! Go ahead and report to Commander Zhi if you dare!"

  Ding Rujin had just reported the matter to the battalion headquarters, and Park Dongming wanted to cover it up. He told Ding Rujin that it was just a few prisoners of war, and if they died, so be it - after all, they had killed our soldiers too. There would be plenty of opportunities to take prisoners in the future, and the guerrilla team had just been formed, so let's not affect morale. Ding Rujin's anger was burning bright, his thunderous roar making Park's ears ache: "This is a matter of military discipline and law! What's the difference between massacring prisoners of war and being like the Japanese devils?" Chen Zizhong felt no guilt, leading the guerrilla team back, with the two men pulling and tugging each other all the way to the battalion headquarters.

  Regarding whether the prisoner policy can be properly executed, all members of the party committee were present. Chen Zizhong and Ding Rugang each received a few lashes from the team leader before starting to explain what had happened.

  Ding Ruogang recounted from his own perspective, he believed that at the time the captives snatched guns and escaped, the situation had not become so severe that it was necessary to open fire, and should have brought back a few living captives for interrogation.

  Chen Zizhong's face turned red with rage: "Do you think I didn't want to leave a few survivors? That soldier was pinned down, if we had opened fire earlier he might still be alive!"

  "The machine gun stopped, why are you still shooting? The last captive had no gun and did not threaten the lives of the soldiers!"

  "Ancestors, oh no! The warriors are bleeding! I'm all gray-haired!"

  The political commissar, pinching the big trumpet with his thumb and lowering his head to puff out smoke, stopped the debate between the two men and asked Ding Ruogang: "What do you think of Chen Dabao?"

  "Greedy for wealth, greedy for wine, fond of bravery and fighting fiercely, with a very serious bandit style."

  "What? You say I'm greedy for money? Can't make it clear to you, you damned fool!"

  Chen Zizhong's hand involuntarily rested on the holster at his waist, saying that he was greedy for wine and had a bandit-like style, which could be barely accepted. But to say that he was greedy for wealth, he couldn't accept it. After fighting for so many years, he still had a clean slate, every time they captured spoils of war, they were all handed over cleanly and neatly, and if there was any concealment, it was only to improve the lives of the soldiers.