All have temper (4)
"Look! Are these people digging holes again, and the cats are up?" Chen Zizhong limped and staggered on the battlefield, and on the left wing of the battlefield, he saw a soldier wrapped in frost and snow at the shooting position, like a snowman.
"Ah! The position has been taken, and it's still hidden!" Chen Zizhong also didn't show any courtesy, stepping forward and kicking the soldier in the ribs. He reckoned this muddlehead was asleep.
The warrior did not turn around, nor was there any echo, and still lay on the ground.
Chen Zizhong realized something was wrong, the thin rubber shoes transmitted to his feet not a physical tremor, but a hard, metallic sensation, as if he had kicked an iron plate. His face changed color, and he squatted down to lift up the soldier's collar, putting his hand into his back, his fingers feeling icy cold, colder than his own hands. He leaned over the soldier, seeing his eyebrows, his face covered with white frost, his nose stuffed with ice, his complexion grayish-white, a person who had long since stopped breathing.
The sacrificed warriors were covered with frost and ice flowers, like snow-white mourning flowers dancing in the sky.
"Qiang chang!" A sorrowful cry echoed through the canyon.
Chen Zizhong ran over and saw that the snow valley blown by the strong wind had randomly discarded more than a dozen bodies of volunteer army soldiers. The bodies did not have fatal gunshot wounds, and all were frozen to death. They looked like majestic statues, still maintaining their prone shooting posture until death. Wearing thin autumn uniforms and liberation rubber shoes, several soldiers had been stuck to the icy ground for a long time, with their abdomens firmly stuck to the ground, unable to move even when lifted. The South Korean soldiers clearing the battlefield used engineer shovels to chop off their bodies, scattering internal organs, intestines, and severed limbs everywhere.
A mutilated corpse still clutched a pistol that had been fired until it was empty, with a red stripe sewn on his military uniform to distinguish soldiers from officers. He was the company commander of the 2nd Company, and there were seven gunshot wounds on his body.
The howling wind was like a beast in the wild, blowing and beating Chen Zizhong, almost pushing him off his feet. The wind carried large grains of sand and snow that stung his face like fire.
"Damn it! All of you are so stubborn!" Chen Zizhong wiped away the tears on his face, "This snow... is really damn painful!"
The warriors who were burying the corpses stopped at the same time. How could Chen Dabao, who wouldn't make a sound even if he was hacked to death, be reduced to tears by snow?
The 2nd company of soldiers arrived at the position and immediately lay down on the icy ground to block the attack of the South Korean army and the US cavalry division G company, which was eight times their size. The valley's frozen soil was hard as rock, making it impossible to dig defensive fortifications. Under the bombing of American bombers, artillery and tanks, they suffered heavy casualties. After nightfall, the commander of the 2nd company sent out two soldiers for reinforcements, but he and the rest of his men froze to death on the battlefield.
Dozens of corpses, like sculptures, were not buried in the ground, half-buried in the snow, neatly arranged in a row, facing the battlefield. Dozens of frozen corpses stood proudly in the cold wind, reviewing the valley, fearing nothing, neither bullets, shells, incendiary bombs, nor poison gas, nor even the cold.
Chen Zizhong didn't say another word, the taciturn warrior rarely spoke, and only occasionally uttered a few words, on the battlefield all that could be heard was the cold wind blowing fiercely one moment and then passing.
Chen Zizhong directed the troops to enter the battlefield with a gesture, and the soldiers who were shivering in the cold wind made his heart ache. He kept turning his head to look at the dozen or so corpses in the valley. Chen Zizhong had seen too many lives lost during his nine years of service, sometimes he was numb, but other times he was more vulnerable than ordinary people. It wasn't that he couldn't stand the sight of blood, but seeing the broken bodies and severed limbs made him vomit uncontrollably, and he would shiver with fear, unable to sleep for entire nights. When he closed his eyes, he saw his fallen comrades shouting in his dreams, their bodies scattered all over the battlefield. When he opened his eyes, he saw them charging forward on the black beams of the house, with golden armor and iron horses. Once at a celebratory banquet, Chen Zizhong spoke his true feelings after drinking: "After fighting for so many years, what I fear most is the roll call after the battle. If there's one person who doesn't respond, I feel like I've lost a piece of my flesh. I'm really scared, scared that one day all you guys will be gone, and I'll just be a skeleton. We're not afraid to die, but we want to live a good life."
Daybreak, the US and South Korean armies may launch an attack at any time. Chen Zizhong strode back and forth on the battlefield: "What's the big deal? Look at your miserable appearance! Who's cold? Put on bayonets and get ready to fight the enemy!"
