Original text
On September 19, 1944, Belgrade had actually been captured. Only a bridge over the Sava River and the small bridgehead were still in German hands.
That morning, five Red Army soldiers decided to attack the bridge. They had to crawl across a small square first. There were several burned tanks and armored vehicles scattered on the square, some of them German and some of ours. There was only one tree that had not fallen down. It seemed as if a pair of magic hands had cut off its upper body, leaving only the lower half as tall as a person.
In the center of the square, the five of us were overtaken by mortar fire from the enemy on the other side. They lay on the ground for half an hour under fire. Finally, the gunfire died down a little, and the two slightly injured ones crawled back holding the two seriously injured ones. The fifth one is dead and lying on the square.
As for the deceased, we know from the company headquarters roster that his name was Chekolayev, who died in battle on the banks of the Sava River in Belgrade on the morning of the 19th.
The Red Army's sneak attack attempt must have frightened the Germans, who kept bombarding the square and nearby streets with mortars throughout the day, with only a few short breaks.
The company commander received orders to capture the bridge at dawn the next day. He said that there was no need to move Chikolayev's body back at this time. He could bury him after the bridge was captured tomorrow.
The German artillery fire continued until the sun went down. On the other side of the square, a few steps away from the other houses, stood a pile of rubble so high that it was almost impossible to discern its original appearance. No one would have thought that there were people living here.
However, in the cellar under this pile of rubble, there lived an old woman named Mary Yukisi. A dark hole half-covered by bricks and tiles was the entrance to the cellar.
The old woman Yuqixi originally lived on the second floor of that house, which was left to her by her dead man, the watchman guarding the bridge. The second floor was destroyed by artillery fire, so she moved downstairs. All the people living downstairs had already moved out. Later, the downstairs was also destroyed, and the old woman moved to the cellar.
The 19th was the fourth day since she lived in the cellar. This morning, she clearly saw five Red Army soldiers crawling onto the square field. There was only a twisted iron railing between the square field and her. She saw the German guns aimed at the five Red Army soldiers, and shells exploded around them. She crawled out of the cellar and wanted to call the five Red Army soldiers to come to her - she decided that her own place was safer. However, she had just climbed out halfway when a shell fell nearby and exploded. The old woman was shocked and deafened. Her head hit the wall and she lost consciousness.
When she woke up and looked over there, only one of the five Red Army soldiers remained on the square. The Red Army soldier was lying on his side, with one arm outstretched and the other arm pillowed under his head, as if he wanted to lie down more comfortably. The old woman called him several times without answering, and then she realized that he was dead.
The Germans fired again, and the shells exploded in this small square. The black soil turned up like pillars. Shrapnel stripped the branches of the remaining trees. The Soviet man lay alone in the uncovered square, with one arm under his head, surrounded by bent iron and charred trees.
Old Mary Yuqixi looked at the soldier who died in the battle for many times, and she wanted to tell someone about it. But there was not a single living thing in the area, let alone people. Even the cat that had been with her in the cellar for four days was killed by the debris from the explosion. The old woman thought for a long time, then reached out and found something in her only bag, put it in her arms, and slowly crawled out of the cellar.
She couldn't crawl or run fast. She simply straightened up, swayed, and walked slowly towards the square. A section of iron railing that had not yet been broken blocked her way, and she did not intend to cross it. She was too old to cross it, so she slowly walked around the iron railing and walked into the square.
The Germans were still bombarding, but not a single shell fell anywhere near the old woman.
She walked across the square, reached the dead Soviet soldier, and turned the body over with all her strength. I saw his face. He was young and pale. She gently arranged his hair, and then with great effort, she bent his already stiff arms and crossed them over his chest. Then she sat down next to him.
The Germans were still firing, but as before, the shells fell far away from the old man.
She sat there quietly for about an hour, maybe two hours.
The weather was very cold and everything was quiet. There was no sound except the explosion of artillery shells.
She finally stood up and left the dead man. After only a few steps, she found what she needed: a large shell crater. This was exploded a few days ago, and now, some water has accumulated in the pit.
The old woman knelt in the pit and scooped out water with her palms. After scooping a few times, she had to take a break. She finally scooped out all the water in the pit, then returned to the dead man, put her hands under the dead man's armpits, and dragged him away.
The road was not far, less than 10 steps a foot, but she was too old and had to sit down and rest three times. Finally, she finally dragged the deceased to the shell crater.
She was exhausted and sat there resting for a long time.
After resting enough, the old woman ran to the deceased, made the sign of the cross on the deceased, and kissed the deceased's lips and forehead.
Then, she picked up the floating soil around the shell crater with both hands, and slowly placed handfuls of them on the deceased. Soon the deceased was completely covered with soil. The old woman was not satisfied yet. She wanted to make a veritable grave. After resting for a while, she picked up the soil again and continued to cover it. In a few hours, she piled handfuls after handfuls and built a small grave.
The German artillery was still bombarding, but, as before, the shells fell far away from the old woman.
After finishing the grave, the old woman took out from under her big black scarf what she had carried in her arms when she left the cellar - a big candle. This was her wedding candle 45 years ago. She has been reluctant to use it and treasures it to this day.
She fumbled in her pocket for a long time and took out some matches. She put the big candle on the top of the grave and lit it. There was no wind that night, and the flame of the candle rose straight upward without wavering at all. The old woman sat by the grave facing the candlelight, motionless, with her arms crossed on her chest and wrapped in the big black scarf.
When the shell exploded, the flame of the candle flickered. But several times the shells fell quite close, and the candles were blown out by the blast wind, and once they were knocked down. The old woman took out the match and patiently lit the candle again.
It’s almost dawn, and the candles are about to burn out. The old woman searched everywhere on the ground and finally found a piece of rusty iron. She used her thin fingers to bend the piece of iron into a semicircle and inserted it into the soil next to the candle as a barrier from the wind. After finishing the arrangement, she stood up and walked slowly across the square, bypassing the iron railing that had not fallen down, and returned to the cellar.
Before dawn, under the cover of fierce artillery fire, the company of Red Army troops to which Chekolayev belonged went straight to the square and occupied the bridge.
After an hour or two, it was already bright. The Red Army infantry followed the tanks across the bridge, and the battle continued on the other side of the river. No more shells fell on the square.
At this time, the company commander sent a few soldiers to find Chekolayev's body, intending to bury him with the soldiers who died this morning. Those soldiers couldn't be found anywhere. Suddenly, a soldier shouted in surprise: "Look!" Everyone looked in the direction he pointed.
Near the destroyed iron railings, a small graveyard stood. A candle on the grave was shielded from the wind by a piece of rusty iron, and it shone a soft flame on the grave. The candle was almost finished lighting, and the wick was almost submerged in wax tears, but the small spark was still flickering.
The Red Army soldiers standing next to the grave immediately took off their hats. They stood around the grave in silence, watching the dimming candlelight.
At this time, a tall old woman wearing a large black scarf walked slowly. She walked silently past the Red Army soldiers, knelt down beside the grave, and took out another candle from under the big black scarf. This one is exactly the same as the one that was almost finished on the grave. They are obviously a pair. The old woman knelt down and picked up the candle end, lit the new one, and inserted it in the old place. When she stood up, she had difficulty moving. The Red Army soldier closest to her carefully helped her up.
But even at this moment, the old woman did not speak. She just raised her eyes, glanced at the people who were standing in silence with their hats off, and gave them a deep and solemn look. Bowed; then, she straightened her big black scarf and walked away tremblingly, without looking back to look at the candles and the soldiers.
After watching her go away, the Red Army soldiers talked in low voices, as if they were afraid of disturbing the solemn air. Then they crossed the square, crossed the bridge, caught up with their company, and entered the battle.
In the land scorched by artillery fire, amidst the bent iron tools and burned trees, the only thing that a Yugoslav mother cherishes - her wedding candle - is still clearly visible. The grave of a young Soviet soldier.
This flame will never go out. It will burn forever, just like a mother's tears, just like a son's bravery, so immortal.
Ideological content
"Candle" is a work by the former Soviet writer Simonov. The work depicts a Yugoslav mother. There are only descriptions of her movements in the article, but no language descriptions. Through the delicate description of movements, you can feel the soul of the character and the true love of this Yugoslav mother for the martyrs of the Red Army. The work highlights the detail of "candle", giving the work a bright color. The lyrical ending affectionately praises the Yugoslav people's deep feelings for the Soviet Red Army. According to the characteristics of the text, we should focus on exploring the psychological activities of this Yugoslav mother, perceive her inner world based on her every move, and appreciate the author's feelings contained in the calm narrative between the lines. This article expresses the author's hatred of fascism and his yearning for peace.
Writing background
The writing background of "Candle": In September 1944, World War II entered the final stage of competition. At that time, Simonov was a military reporter and went to Yugoslavia with the Soviet Red Army to report. War communications.
This communication tells a story that happened in the last small battle of the Battle of Belgrade in the voice of "we" (the Soviet Red Army) as an on-site witness.
This article was selected into the Chinese textbook for the eighth grade, the third lesson, published by the People's Education Press.