On this day, the troops attacking the coast decided to attack at night. Several comrades in the workshop of our art troupe were assigned to various combat companies by the head of the main attack group to help with the work.
Probably because I'm a lesbian! The head of the team scratched my head for a long time, and finally called a correspondent to take me to the frontier defense dressing change place.
The place where the bandage is wrapped is the place where the bandage is wrapped! Anyway, don't let me into the safe. I put on my backpack and went with the correspondent.
It rained lightly in the morning. Although it has cleared up now, the road is still slippery. The autumn harvest crops in the fields on both sides were washed green by the rain, and the pearls were shiny. The air smells fresh and humid, too. I really thought that if the enemy's sniper rifle didn't explode blindly intermittently, we would go to the market!
The reporter strode ahead of me. From the beginning, he pushed me a few feet away. My feet are rotten and the road is slippery. No matter how hard I try, I can't catch up with him. I want to ask him to wait for me, but I am afraid that he will laugh at my timidity and fear; If I don't call him, I'm really afraid that I can't find a place to change my medicine alone. I'm beginning to get angry with this reporter.
Hey! Strange to say, he seems to have eyes behind him, but he automatically stood by the side of the road. But the face is still forward. Didn't look at me When I approached him slowly, he stamped his foot again and threw me a few feet away again. I really didn't have the strength to catch up, so I wandered slowly behind alone. But this time, it's okay. He didn't let me move too far, but he didn't let me get close. He kept a distance of ten feet from me. I walked fast, and he strode ahead; I walked slowly, and he staggered in front. Strangely enough, I didn't see him look back at me once, and I couldn't help being interested in this correspondent.
I didn't notice him at the regimental headquarters just now. Now, from the back, I can only see that he is a short and tall man, but judging from his thick and strong shoulders, he is a great guy. He was wearing a faded yellow military uniform with knee-length leggings. The rifle barrel on the shoulder is sparsely inserted with a few branches, which is more decorative than camouflage.
I didn't catch up with him, but my feet hurt like fire. I let him have a rest, and then I sat on the stone that made the ridge. He also sat down on a distant stone, put the gun across his leg, and turned his back on me as if I didn't exist. From experience, I know it must be because I am a lesbian. Lesbians have these difficulties in joining the job. I walked over with a sense of resistance and sat down in front of him. At this time, I saw his round face, very young and naive, and he was only eighteen at most. When he saw me sitting next to him, he immediately got up in a panic, as if a time bomb was buried next to him. He was embarrassed, and it was hard for him to turn his face away. He can't do it, and unless he does, he's embarrassed to stand up. I tried to hold back my laughter and casually asked him where he was from. He didn't answer, his face rose like a Guan Gong, and it took him a long time to make it clear that he was from Tianmu Mountain. It turns out that he is still my fellow countryman!
"What are you doing at home?"
"Help people drag bamboo."
I looked at his broad shoulders, and immediately there appeared a green mist-like bamboo sea, a long and narrow one.
Narrow stone mountain road, spiraling up. A fat young man with a broad shoulder, with an old blue cloth on his shoulder, was carrying some bamboos, and the bamboo tips dragged behind him, making the stone steps rattle. ..... This is how familiar I am with my hometown life! I immediately fell in love with this fellow countryman.
I asked again, "How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"How many years have you been in the revolution?"
"One year."
"How did you join the revolution?" When I asked about this, I felt it was not like a conversation, but more like an interrogation. But I still can't help asking.
"When the army retreated northward, I followed myself."
"Who else is at home?"
"My mother, father, brother and sister, and an aunt also live in my house."
"You haven't married a wife, have you?"
"..." His face was flushed and he became more coy, and his hands kept counting the buttonholes on his belt. It was a long time before he lowered his head and shook his head with a smirk. I wanted to ask him if he was seeing anyone, but seeing him like this, I had to swallow my words again.
They sat for a while, and he began to look up at the sky, and then leaned down and looked at me, which meant to urge me to start.
When I stood up to leave, I saw him take off his hat and secretly wipe his sweat with a towel. This is my fault. People don't sweat when walking. It's my fault. I made him sweat to talk to him.
We arrived at the dressing place, and it was already two o'clock in the afternoon. Three miles from the front. The bandaging center is located in a primary school. Six houses, large and small, formed a zigzag pattern. There are many weeds growing in a clearing in the middle. Obviously, primary schools haven't started for a long time. By the time we arrived, there were already several health workers in the room with gauze and cotton, and the brick door panels were all over the floor, which were all hospital beds.
Shortly after we arrived, a township cadre came, his eyes red with boiling, and he put a piece of hard paper on his forehead with a broken felt hat.
Come down and cover your eyes low to block the light.
He has a gun on one shoulder and a steelyard on the other. He came panting with a basket of eggs in his left hand and a cauldron in his right. While packing, he apologized and complained to us, drank water, and took out a packet of rice balls from his pocket to chew. I saw him do all this quickly. I didn't understand what he said. It seems to be talking about the quilt. Let's borrow it ourselves. I asked the medic. It turned out that the quilt on the army had not been issued yet, but the wounded were bleeding and afraid of the cold, so they had to borrow it from the people. Even if there are ten or twenty pieces of cotton wool. I'm worried that I can't adapt to the job at this moment, so I volunteered for this job. I'm afraid I won't be able to invite my fellow villagers to help me mobilize several families before I leave. He hesitated for a while and went with me.
We went to a nearby village first. After entering the village, he went east and I went west, and we mobilized separately. Soon, I have written three IOUs, borrowed two cotton wool and a quilt, and I am in a hurry. I am very happy. When I was about to send them back to borrow them, I saw the correspondent coming from the opposite side, and my hand was still empty.
"Why, you borrowed it?" I think people here are highly conscious and open-minded. How can they not borrow it? I was a little surprised to ask.
"Female comrade, you go to borrow it! ..... people die in feudalism. ……"
"Which one? You take me there. " I guess he must have said something wrong and collapsed. Borrowing quilts is a trivial matter, and it is not good to offend ordinary people. I asked him to show me around. But he stubbornly lowered his head, as if he had been nailed to the ground and refused to move. I approached him and told him in a low voice what the crowd had influenced. After listening to this, he really relaxed and took me away.
We walked into the yard of a fellow villager, only to find that the hall was quiet. On one of the doors inside, there is a curtain with blue cloth and red forehead, and bright red couplets are posted on both sides of the door frame. We had to stand outside and shout at the "big sister" in the room. We shouted several times, but no one answered, but there was noise. After a while, the curtain was lifted to reveal a young wife. This daughter-in-law is very good-looking, with a high nose, curved eyebrows and fluffy forehead. Although wearing coarse cloth, they are all new. I saw that her head had been tied into a bun, and my sister-in-law apologized to her briefly, saying that this comrade had just arrived, so don't take it amiss to speak badly, and so on. She listened, face inward, bit her lip and smiled. When I finished, she didn't say anything, but bowed her head and bit her lip, as if she had endured many jokes and didn't finish laughing. Gal, I'm a little embarrassed, how to say the following words! I saw the correspondent standing on the side, staring at me unblinkingly, as if watching the company commander give a demonstration. I had to bite the bullet and ask her to borrow the quilt, and then I told her again that the troops of the * * * production party are fighting for the people. This time, she stopped laughing, listened and kept looking into the room. When I finished, she looked at me and the reporter as if weighing what I had just said. After a long time, she turned and went in to hug the quilt.
The correspondent took this opportunity and said to me unconvinced, "I just said these words, but she just wouldn't borrow them." Look at it! ……"
I quickly gave him a white look and didn't let him say anything. But it's too late. The daughter-in-law is already at the door of the room, holding the quilt.
Yes As soon as the quilt was taken out, I understood why she refused to borrow it just now. It turned out to be a brand-new floral quilt, with a fake satin quilt cover and a bordeaux bottom, on which Bai Baihe sprinkled.
She seemed to be angry with the correspondent on purpose and sent the quilt to me and said, "Take it."
I had a quilt in my hand, so I made signal with the lips and asked the correspondent to get it. Unexpectedly, he raised his face and pretended not to see it. I had to open my mouth to call him, but he just sullenly hung his eyelids, went up and got the quilt, and turned around and left in a panic. I didn't want him to go out one step, but I heard a hiss and my clothes were caught by the door hook. At the shoulder, he hung a piece of cloth, which was broken a lot. Daughter-in-law laughed and hurried to find a needle and thread to sew it on him. The correspondent refused, grabbed the quilt and left.
Not far from the door, we were told that the young daughter-in-law just now was a bride who had just gone out for three days, and this quilt was her only dowry. I felt guilty when I heard that. The correspondent frowned and looked at the quilt in his hand silently. I think he will feel the same way after hearing such words! Sure enough, as he walked, he muttered to me.
"We don't know the situation, but also borrowed somebody else's wedding quilt. How inappropriate! ..... "I couldn't help but want to play a joke on him, so I pretended to be serious and said," Yes! Maybe when she was a girl for this quilt, she didn't know how many odd jobs she had to get up early and stay up late to save money for making quilts. Maybe she can't sleep with this quilt. However, some people say that she is feudal. ……"
Hearing this, he suddenly stopped, stayed for a while and said, "That! ..... Then let's send it back! "
"I borrowed it, and sending it back will worry her." I think his serious and embarrassing appearance is both funny and cute. Somehow, I have fallen in love with this silly little guy from the bottom of my heart.
After listening to what I said, it seems reasonable. He thought about it, made up his mind and said, "Well, forget it. Give her a good wash. " After he decided, he grabbed all the quilts I was holding, hung them on his shoulders left and right, and strode away.
When I got dressed, I sent him back to the regimental headquarters. His spirit suddenly perked up, saluted me and ran away. After a few steps, he remembered something again. He fished in his bag for a while, took out two steamed buns, praised me, put them on the stones by the roadside and said, "I'll cook dinner for you!" " After that, I left without a foot. I went over and picked up the two hard steamed buns. I saw a wild chrysanthemum in the bucket on his back, which trembled in his ear with those branches.
He has gone a long way, but he can still see the pieces of cloth torn from his shoulders floating in the wind. I really regret not sewing him up before I left. Now, at least he was naked all night.
There are few staff in the dressing room. The township cadres mobilized several women to help us draw water, cook pots and do odd jobs. The new wife is here, too. She is still smiling and sipping her mouth. She occasionally looks at me out of the corner of her eye, but from time to time she looks around as if looking for something. Later, she finally asked me, "Where's that gay brother?" I told her that my brother is not from here, and he has gone to the front now. She smiled shyly and said, "He was angry when he borrowed a quilt from me just now!" " "Then sipped his mouth and smiled, and began to spread the borrowed dozens of quilts and cotton wool neatly on the door panels and tables (two tables together are a bed). I saw her spread a new Bai Baihe quilt on the door panel under the eaves outside.
It's getting dark and there is a full moon on the horizon. Our general attack has not yet started. As usual, the enemy was afraid of the dark, burning piles of wildfires on the ground, blindly bombing, and flares rose one after another, as if countless gasoline lamps were lit under the moon, exposing everything on the ground naked. How difficult it is to attack in such a "white night" and how much it will cost!
I even hate the moon.
The township cadres came again to comfort the dried vegetable moon cakes made by our family. It turns out that today is the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Ah, Mid-Autumn Festival, in my hometown, there is now a bamboo coffee table in front of every household, with a pair of incense sticks and several plates of melon and fruit moon cakes on it. The children are eager to burn the wick incense quickly, so that they can share what the Moon Queen enjoys earlier. They sang and danced beside the coffee table: "Moon blossoms, knock gongs to buy sugar, …" or sang: "Moon Niang, take care of me …" I remembered my little fellow villager, the guy who dragged bamboo. Maybe, a few years ago, he
..... I ate a delicious homemade moon cake and remembered that the little fellow villager was probably lying in the fortifications now, perhaps in the regiment command post, perhaps walking in those winding traffic ditches! ……
After a while, our cannon rang, several red flares flashed across the sky, and the attack began. Soon, several wounded people came down intermittently, and the air in the dressing room immediately became tense.
I took a notebook to register their names and units. Ask for minor injuries, and open the symbol or look through the skirt for serious injuries. When I opened a symbol with rich colors, the word "correspondent" suddenly made me tremble and my heart beat. It took me a while to see the words × camp written on the symbol. Ah! No, my countrymen. He is a correspondent of the regimental headquarters. But somehow I want to ask who will miss the wounded on the battlefield. I don't know why I ask these boring questions.