Chapter 7 The First Shot (1)
Rushing to the team department, the team's political commissar first talked with Chen Zizhong, and the political commissar was a notorious cigarette enthusiast. From dawn till dusk, he would hold a 'big trumpet' between his fingers. The tobacco leaves were the top-grade Abuli smoke, with a mellow flavor, fragrant aroma, and full-bodied strength. Whenever someone in the team made a mistake, the commissar wouldn't scold or beat them, but instead would smile and pull them into a small room, closing the doors and windows tightly. He'd sit on a stool, chain-smoking one cigarette after another, until the other person was choked to tears, vowing never to make the same mistake again. The commissar had cigarettes in his mouth all day long, yet he had a full set of pearly white teeth - what a strange thing!
Chen Zizhong was worried that the political commissar would release another smoke bomb, so he hastily handed over the camel cigarettes he had confiscated from Hou Kuai's body. The political commissar took the cigarette, crushed it, rolled it up with his own paper, lit it, and puffed out thick smoke, explaining that they needed to establish a volunteer army guerrilla team behind enemy lines, set up a secret base in the area occupied by the US and South Korean armies, and carry out guerrilla warfare. He clearly outlined six main tasks: strike at small groups of enemies; disrupt the enemy's rear order; eliminate the puppet regime of South Korea; capture prisoners; gather intelligence; and coordinate with large-scale troop actions. Chen Zizhong was extremely unwilling, lying on the table and being stubborn, muttering that his frostbite had not fully recovered, and walking tens of miles on mountain roads would definitely require him to be sent back to the field hospital, which would be a small personal suffering but a big impact on the overall situation.
"Which turtle grandson has an injury? I'll treat you, headache chop head, foot pain chop foot!"
Chen Zizhong quickly jumped down from the table, a horse whip hung in the air and swept across the tabletop, leaving behind a white mark.
Chen Zizhong retreated to the corner of the wall that was out of reach of the whip, grinning and waving: "Hey, isn't this the captain? These boots of yours are too old, they're damaging the team's reputation. I'll get you a pair of American-made ones later, warm in winter and cool in summer, can even be worn as water shoes."
The battalion commander was a Henan native, an old revolutionary with a stubborn temper. He joined the Chinese Red Army at 13 and was a true red devil. During the Long March, he fell seriously ill, and his squad leader gave him 10 silver dollars to leave the troops, but he threw the money into a muddy pit and continued on. When crossing the grasslands, he had a high fever that wouldn't subside, curled up in a ball by the side of the road. Later, when an old superior who would become a division commander rode by on horseback, offering him the warhorse, he refused to accept it. The superior could only let him follow behind, holding onto the horse's tail as they walked, mud splattering his face. He closed his eyes and stumbled through the grasslands. From then on, the battalion commander loved riding horses, never putting down his whip. People of that war-torn era had big tempers, often yelling at others and getting violent when angry - the commander's leather whip struck people more often than it struck horses.
The team leader and political commissar, with a combination of firmness and gentleness, kept Chen Zizhong and other brave and unruly subordinates under control.
War accelerates aging, the battalion commander who is not yet forty years old has an air of age, his eyebrows are always furrowed into a 'river' character, like the king character on a tiger's forehead, majestically displayed between his eyebrows.
"Stop flattering! I heard you tell the commissar that we can't fight? Come on, stretch out your arm, and I'll fix it for you."
Comrades called Sanba Dage "two feet five", Chen Zizhong's big foot was half a rifle long, and jokingly called it "one foot two".
Chen Zizhong didn't dare raise his head, and his mouth was still making excuses: "The injury isn't healed yet, but guarding a position shouldn't be a problem."
"You haven't even recovered from your injuries and you dare cause trouble in the field hospital, now you're bringing this mess to me!"
The captain picked up the whip and threw it over, Chen Zizhong didn't dare to dodge, turned around and let his buttocks take a hit. He carefully picked up the whip and handed it back, with a mournful expression on his face: "Captain, have mercy! In those years of fighting in the anti-Japanese league, I was suffocated to death, I wanted to return to the main force army early and late, but now that we've finally fought a few good battles, why do you make me fight guerrilla warfare again?"
