Rise From Eight Hundred

"These victories are extremely inspiring!

Every corpse of the Japanese invaders proves to our entire army and the whole country that they are nothing special. In the face of our bravery, they will also die.

However, victory is gained through sacrifice.

I want to interview these heroes, and I expressed this wish to the two generals.

The general was silent for a moment and took me to a courtyard.

My compatriots, can you imagine? When Mingyue pushed open the door and walked into the large courtyard, under the moonlight, looking around, the ground was white.

Mingyue accompanied the two generals in the white snow. The courtyard was silent, and even the rumbling sound of artillery that was still exploding from time to time outside the city became so distant.

Uncover a piece of white cloth, underneath is a face that is so young that you can't imagine. The blood on his face has been washed away by clean water. He wiped it off, but his eyes were still wide open. You can imagine how he roared and tried his best to shoot the bullets in his gun barrel at the distant enemy before he died.

I don’t know how many heavy machine gun bullets hit his chest, and his already thin chest was deflated. His beloved military uniform was stuck to his flesh and blood. The nurse who helped him clean had to choose to wrap his chest with white cloth, but it still became a bloody cloth.

I looked up at the moonlight, trying to pour back my tears.

Because I don’t want to be sad. In the March in Songhu, I saw too many sacrifices. I hope my heart may have become hard enough. I hope I can face the passing of youth more calmly, but I still couldn’t help it.

I couldn’t hold back my tears, nor could I hold back my heartache. I was so painful that I didn’t have the courage to help him close his eyes. Eyelids that were not closed.

Because I was afraid that I would not be able to help but look up his name and write it in my diary. I wanted to remember each of them, but I knew that their relatives did not want to see their names in the newspaper.

That was glory, but for them, it was more of despair.

If possible, I hope they can all live and not be heroes.

But the Japanese devils came.

Every ordinary person has something they want to protect.

The two generals stood in the white ground, their eyes were bright, but their bodies were still upright.

Songjiang City is not short of white cloth, and that is the last thing that Songjiang people can do for the heroes. Under each piece of white cloth is a life that was once extremely lively.

And I know that this is not the end, because the real battle in Songjiang City has just begun, and outside the city The Japanese heavy troops are slowly approaching.

Perhaps, when you read Mingyue's article, Songjiang City is trembling in the Japanese artillery fire.

But fellow countrymen, with such generals and soldiers, please believe that if the Japanese army wants to pass through Songjiang, they must step over the corpses of more than 30,000 Songjiang defenders, including my Tantai Mingyue.

In the end, at my request, although the general did not allow me to go to the front-line position for an interview, he finally gave me a chance to interview by phone.

The highest commander of the front line, a lieutenant colonel of the army, answered my call. The night raid mentioned earlier was completed under his personal leadership, but please forgive me for not revealing his name.

However, it was not because he refused my telephone interview, but for personal reasons!

He found a soldier to accept my interview.

Although it was across the phone, listening to the thick Sichuan accent that I needed to listen carefully to distinguish clearly, I could still imagine that it was a vigorous soldier.

However, what he said was somewhat contradictory to my feelings.

He did not tell me how he bravely killed the enemy on the battlefield, but all memories.

Just like an old man, he talked about the most unforgettable people and things in his life, as if only in this way could he find himself.

He was lost in the chatter of memories, full of memories of his comrades.

He talked about how they fought bravely and how they sacrificed, how the old soldier who had led him hoped to live to see his daughter get married, and specially bought her a pure copper ring; how his comrade-in-arms hoped to go home and find a wife, and for this reason he specially hid the reward issued by the superior in a secret place so that only the closest fellow villagers could know, but later both of them died, and no one knew where his money was hidden.

What a simple and pure expectation, all gone, because of the arrival of the Japanese devils.

Mingyue's hands were shaking as he recorded the stories of these ordinary soldiers, but he still firmly chose to write down these stories and tell you.

Until....

Until the time set by the general was almost up, and the interview was about to end.

Mingyue asked him curiously, asking him to talk so much about his comrades, what about himself? Is there anything he wants to say to his family? If he agrees, I can leave his name here and pass on his words to his family through the newspaper.

I think no one would give up this extremely rare opportunity.

He was silent for more than ten seconds, and then answered me: I have younger brothers and sisters at home, and my parents will be taken care of by someone. I just hope that if I die in battle, everyone will forget me.

My pen suddenly stopped.

The tears that I had been holding back for a long time finally burst out.

I think I should understand what he meant.

It is because he knows the pain of losing his comrades and constantly missing them, so he hopes that when he dies, please forget him.

Let his comrades forget him, let his blood relatives forget him, let the motherland forget him, and let the Chinese people forget him.

But, can we forget him?

No, I believe, I will not forget, his comrades will not forget, and China will not forget. In Songjiang, south of the Yangtze River in China, there is such a group of Chinese soldiers who are still on their own position in the face of the surging momentum of 100,000 Japanese troops. , roaring to the invaders: Come and fight! "

The young man was reading Tantai Mingyue's battlefield diary in the newspaper, with tears already streaming down his face, and the crowd around him was also mourning.

The words that completely defeated Tantai Mingyue's defense: Please forget about me! It also broke the tear ducts of the Chinese people.

There are more than just people who can't wait to pick up the newspaper on the street. Tantai Mingyue's true but touching words completely ignited the fire in the hearts of the people.

"Drive the Japanese out of Songhu!"

"Long live the Songjiang defenders!"

...

Slogans rang out one after another on the street.

In southern Hunan, in Jinling, and in Jiangxia, countless young students chose to take to the streets, holding slogans and chanting anti-war slogans to express their support for the frontline battlefield in Songhu.

Recruitment points in major cities have once again become crowded places.

In the noisy street, after listening to the young man reading the newspaper, the old woman stood there for a moment, then turned around and left silently.

The young man who had been quietly paying attention to her caught up and took a few steps forward: "娭寯! Where are you going?"

The old woman stopped and looked back at the young man. There were tears in her eyes, but her face no longer had the trance and nervousness before: "You're a good friend! Thank you for reading the newspaper to me. The old woman has figured it out. Those who went to fight the Japanese were not good people! But they are all dead, how sad their mother must be!

I am not looking for my son anymore. I am going home and waiting for him at home. If one day he is like those bastards and never comes back, then I will also be waiting at home. My son, I will be the one to wait for him. Damn, I know when he will come back to see me. "

After saying that, the old woman slowly left with heavy steps.

The thin figure just disappeared at the corner of the street.

It was only at this moment that the young man heard the sigh coming from his ears: "Where is the home of Zhang Yi, the commander of the Hunan Army who died in the battle? Can we pay our respects to him?"

"Go together, go together, how can such heroes not express our feelings!"

. . . . . . .

Only then did the young man realize that the truth he was trying to hide had already been known to the old woman.

No wonder she wanted to say thank you. It turned out that it was not to thank him for reading the newspaper, but to thank him for not wanting to hurt a mother's heart.

However, my mother's heart was still hurt after all.

She had to wait for a long time, and finally could not come back to her, so she knelt in front of her and called out: Mother, be well! The son is unfilial.

Since ancient times, it is difficult to have both loyalty and filial piety! For my son, this is a difficult but necessary multiple-choice question.

But for my mother, all my expectations came to nothing, which couldn't be crueler.

However, she did not cry, but chose to go home and wait for her son's soul to return.

Because his son died for the country, and this is a heroic soul!

Heroic soul, not far away!

At this point, the young man squatted on the ground and cried bitterly.

After a long while, he stood up resolutely, stuffed the paint bucket beside him to the student team passing by, turned around and walked out of the city gate with the newspaper in his arms.

There is the recruitment office of the Hunan Army.

From now on, I pledge myself to my country!

. . . . . . . .

ps: If I die, please forget me! I recently read something said by a female soldier guarding the border. A 40-year-old middle-aged man was instantly defeated. He specially wrote it in a book to pay tribute to the Chinese soldiers!

Recommend a good fantasy book, the score is very good. "Super Family Leader System", book friends who like fantasy can check it out.