Big Belly English Lord (1)
He drank wine with a loud "gulugulu" sound, chewed meat with a "ba-da-ba-da" noise, his cheeks flapping wildly as he ate with abandon, his eyes blazing with anger. But Chen Zizhong was different, his mouth making no annoying noises, like the sound of waves crashing against the shore, pouring wine and shouting toasts, each shout making one's ears ring, this meal made him eat with swaggering pride, exuding an aura of murder, so that outsiders couldn't detect even a hint of poverty or weakness, but rather seemed like a great general single-handedly welcoming a million enemies.
"Good morning, Communist gentlemen. The United States of America has no hostile intentions towards you... Sincerely invite you to join the righteous United Nations army, and together with us defend peace... Save yourselves, you will get gold bars, US dollars, farms..."
The loudspeaker on the US military position was like a mangy dog with its teeth bared, with more than ten bullet holes in it, and still had copper bullet casings embedded in it, but a gentle female voice could still be heard hundreds of meters away.
"Your mother!"
A thunderous roar of anger shook the sky, a gentle voice suddenly stopped, and the loudspeaker continued to broadcast an ear-piercing squeak.
The opposite volunteer army position burst into laughter.
An American helmet flew out with a curse, crashing into a Soviet-made 1944 rifle about thirty meters away. The bayonet on the rifle pierced the body of an American soldier and was nailed to the frozen soil for half a foot.
"Now put down your weapons, you can enjoy beef cans, bread, butter, fruit salad..."
Two angry shouts later, two steel helmets flew out again, landing fifty meters away.
Chen Zizhong cursed as he placed the last blue steel helmet between his legs, squeezing out the dazzling white sand and snow from inside. With a flick of his hand, a string of curses burst forth from between his teeth.
Xu Kai squatted in front of him, eating: "Old Chen, are you so hungry? For a mouthful of snow, you can let the gunner chase out two miles and break discipline again. I'll starve you to death!"
Chen Zizhong grinned, turned around to protect his helmet and started eating alone. Xu Kai said the US military was waging a psychological war, but he didn't have the mood to ponder what kind of trickery that was, just as the sky was getting light his stomach was growling with hunger, and even after eating four steel helmets full of snow it was still ineffective.
Chen Zizhong's pocket was stuffed with two leaflets dropped by American planes, the words on which were even uglier than his own writing, and there were also pictures of two women wearing fishnet stockings, which he kept to wipe his buttocks.
The battle has been going on for five days. For the first two days, the soldiers had a handful of fried noodles and a handful of snow. On the third day, they could only eat snow. Now the snow on the position has been blown into thin mud, and eating snow from afar requires risking one's life.
The main position was like a pockmarked face, with trenches and craters all over the place, and bodies that had been burned to a crisp or blown to pieces were scattered everywhere. In the winter of Gaema Plateau in Korea, water would freeze into ice; if it were in the scorching summer, the flies attracted by the rotting corpses would probably have blocked out the sun. The left-wing position was even more gruesome, with bloodstains soaking through the trenches that had been ripped open by American artillery shells, and all the dugouts had been destroyed. A communication trench that used to be as deep as a man's height now couldn't even cover one's knees; bullets whizzed into the piles of tree branches and powder smoke from exploded shells, and fallen soldiers were quickly buried in dust.
The US military is rampant during the day, with B-52 bombers flying back and forth, dropping bombs everywhere. Reconnaissance planes fly lower than birds, and if you're not careful, they can blow your hat off. Infantry can also launch a decent attack, but at night, they become weak and sneak around like thieves, retreating as soon as they hear the bugle call.
Xu Kai dug his ears: "American devils are all obsessed with money, robbing east and west, picking up a copper kettle as a gold ingot, hanging it on their ass like a fart curtain. I saw an American woman before, saying that our Chinese history is long, likes to study square characters, speaking with an American accent in Beijing dialect, just like the women in the loudspeaker, and also canned beef."
Chen Zizhong was teased by "canned beef" and his eyes glowed green, he clenched his back teeth and swallowed hard, his stomach growling loudly.
"Lao Chen! You're really something!" Xu Kai shouted at him with a dark face.
The loudspeaker repeatedly broadcast bread and canned food, the rumbling sound grew louder, Chen Zizhong hastily put on his helmet, grabbed his gun and crawled forward, looking like he was about to charge, but was pulled back by Xu Kai's right foot.
Xu Kai died holding on tight, Chen Zizhong struggled forward with all his might, the two of them suddenly froze in place, their faces red and sweaty. The melted snow water from their helmets flowed out onto their gunpowder-blackened faces, forming two streams that converged at the corners of their mouths, and Chen Zizhong savagely licked it off.
