He, like thousands of poor peasants, had a small piece of land that could just feed a wife and two children. Year after year, he just lived; it was like this before the Japanese invaders came, and it was like this after the Japanese invaders came. The size of his land determined how far he could see. As long as the war did not happen in his shabby house or on his small piece of land, then everything had nothing to do with him. The land was small, but it was the life of his whole family and the whole meaning of his life. Even though he had not planted the seeds yet, he would lie on his windowsill, looking at the land from afar, looking at the hope of survival.
Just before the sun set, a group of people hurriedly passed by his land, wearing military uniforms and carrying guns. He didn't know who they were, but he guessed who they were. He looked at his two skinny children and the poor woman, and decided to fulfill his responsibilities as a father and a husband, so he hurried out of the house.
"Mom, Dad said he would bring some white flour back for me to eat."
"Mom, is white flour delicious?"
"When mom makes you white flour steamed buns, you will know."
…
He walked into the nearest enemy stronghold, and then the news was passed through the telephone line to the county town. As a result, sentries were added to all key passes, patrols were immediately added, and the patrol range was expanded. Plainclothes teams and detective teams were stationed in all villages and towns in the control area for surveillance; at the same time, a small group of enemy soldiers and dozens of puppet soldiers were sent to follow him to the place where the Eighth Route Army was discovered.
The purpose and whereabouts of this group of Eighth Route Army soldiers were unknown, so it was difficult to find them actively. The Japanese second lieutenant who arrived at the scene could not think of any good solution, so he decided to wait and see, hoping that the Eighth Route Army soldiers would return the same way they left.
It was almost dawn. The Japanese and puppet troops had been waiting nearby all night. Of course, he was there too, because the authenticity of the clue had to be confirmed before he could be rewarded.
A figure hurriedly ran out of the darkness ahead: "Taijun, they are coming, there are really dozens of them. Although I can't see clearly, they must be the Eighth Route Army. I think they are still two miles away."
The original reward was a bag of flour, but the news excited the Japanese lieutenant, so he was allowed to carry two bags of flour back home...
After much difficulty, he managed to secure an important mission, but the other party did not arrive at the meeting point on time, so the mission had to be cancelled. This made Officer Yang very discouraged, and he was so angry that he had no place to vent.
"Platoon Leader Liu, can you tell your men to hurry up? Do you know the importance of time? Can't you see that it's almost dawn?"
Platoon Leader Liu had been listening to this kind of complaints all the way, but he had no choice but to endure it again and again because the other party was a political cadre. He was also very angry, until this moment he could no longer hold it in: "I have eyes too, and anyone can see whether it is day or not. You hurried me on the way here, and you hurried me on the way back. Are you hurrying me?"
Being well-educated, able to write, and having a high level of awareness and good looks, Yang is a very popular person in the division. He is a talent to be cultivated with emphasis and has a promising future. How can he feel embarrassed to be confronted by a crude person who can't read a single word? The handsome face behind the glasses turned pale in an instant: "What did you say? Say it again? Do you know..."
Bang—following a crisp gunshot, a burst of gunfire suddenly broke out around, with the crisp sound of the Type 38 rifle, the muffled sound of the Type 79 rifle, and the roar of the Type 99 rifle, one after another. Bullets whistled all over the place, shuttling through the gloom before dawn. The Japanese and puppet troops who were waiting for the rabbit really waited for the rabbit, but the rabbit was only concerned with rushing forward, too tired to appreciate the surrounding scenery, and therefore lost its sense of crisis, and crashed into the ambush circle.
Officer Yang lay on the ground tightly, his head buzzing, muzzle flashes everywhere, whistling sounds everywhere, and stray bullets hitting him from time to time, crackling in the dim light, mixed with the nearby groans and screams of pain, bloody proof to him that he was ambushed. He was confused and didn't know what to do, although he felt he should do something.
Platoon Leader Liu was shot, a bullet pierced his leg, the pain made him grit his teeth and prop his head up to observe. A machine gun was firing in front of him, and another machine gun was firing on the side. The light was not good, and in order to avoid accidental injuries, the enemy would definitely not deploy too many people in the shooting direction. The situation was not extremely bad. The dimness before dawn made him fall into an ambush, but it was also a hope for him to rush out alive!
The importance of time was reflected at this moment. Every second of delay might result in one more death. Platoon Leader Liu did not dare to hesitate any longer. He shouted in the noise of bullets: "Everyone break out! Now!" Then he pulled out the grenades on his body and started throwing them forward. Platoon Leader Liu knew that he could not escape, maybe in the next second, or maybe in the next minute, so he tried to use the grenades on his body to create some explosive smoke, which filled the front to make the enemy's vision darker and buy more opportunities for the surviving brothers.
The sound of grenades exploding rang out, and clouds of smoke rose up, rising, floating, and dispersing, and then swirled into a beautiful ink painting... The wounded soldiers followed the platoon leader's example and threw grenades forward or to the side until they had thrown all the grenades away, or were hit by bullets, and then shot again, and finally became corpses, and were still shot, again and again.
Behind the lingering smoke, the living were running desperately. Rows of bullets penetrated the darkness and the curtain of smoke, whistling in their ears in a disorderly manner, passing by without hesitation, and occasionally hitting the backs of the running figures, announcing their bloody end...
Yang was once a student, and the power of words awakened him. When the country was broken, he was indignant, wondering why the people were so numb and ignorant; when the war was going badly, he was excited, wondering why the soldiers were so cowardly and complacent. He hated that everyone else was drunk and he was the only one sober; he was also proud that he would be the mainstay, the backbone of the nation!
However, gun smoke has no color, no emotion, only blood. Everyone is equal in front of death, no matter smart or stupid, beautiful or ugly, drunk or sober, it is meaningless.
Officer Yang ran, running as hard as he could. A figure in front of him was shot and fell down, tripping Officer Yang heavily while he was running. At this moment, he forgot his previous indignation and his own excitement. He could only hear the howling of death and see the passing of life. Like all the terrified and numb people, he struggled to get up and staggered away, not even daring to pick up the gun that had just fallen...
The smoke finally cleared, revealing the horizon, the distance, and the morning light...