In September, when college students in other places have gradually entered the palace of new students, we have been training here for two weeks. There is no question of whether we are used to it or not, and we don’t regret it later. We are just looking forward to the arrival of the weekend and looking forward to leaving here quickly during the winter vacation. For a moment, we all seem to have become walking zombies who only pursue enjoyment.

I kept asking myself, is this the place I dreamed of? Until now, I only wear a camouflage uniform, no armband, no military rank, or even no dignity. Here I have not seen the passionate battle battlefield, the passion for serving the country that I once fantasized about, and even the future or hope.

I envy, I envy life outside the campus, just a door, which isolates two worlds. Every time we train in a queue, we can always face the road outside the fence, the traffic coming and going, people who are traveling in a hurry on the road. Even when I look at them, I feel very good. I wonder if there will be a car inside that will pick me up and send me back to my familiar hometown.

After about a month of this kind, I ushered in the most sacred moment of my life. It was still an ordinary afternoon. A whistle sounded and the whole group gathered, "This afternoon, subjects, tactical training! Blow the whistle and get my own equipment later!" The duty officer stood in front of us and told everyone loudly. So each of us lined up and came to the warehouse door. There were rows of neat helmets, stacks of bullet vests, and guns that I had long thought about, and they were placed in front of us.

Waiting for us to claim and wear it. When it was my turn, I took my things carefully. When I first touched the gun, it seemed that the long-extinguished flame suddenly ignited in my heart. The gun was not as heavy as I thought. The pungent gun oil level hit me, which was the gun oil that made the weapon in my hand shine. I ran back to the dormitory excitedly, and quickly put them one by one in the order taught by the squad leader before, and came to the mirror.

Is this still me? Have you ever thought that a huge boy before has now become a People's Liberation Army soldier, brown skin, thin figure, straight figure, holding a gun, standing in front of him majestic. Suddenly, a burst of tears was about to burst out, and in an instant all the pain hidden in his heart was vented. At that moment, I suddenly felt that all the hard work was worth it, and at that moment, I was worthy of my pride!

In the afternoon, we were in Lie

During the training session in the sunset, I looked at my shadow many times and felt that I had suddenly grown up a lot. Yes, once before, I saw the news report that the special forces members born in the 2000s parachuting training, I was suddenly a little surprised. I thought I would always be a child who never grew up and always need protection from others. However, these days passed without realizing it. No one would treat us as children anymore. People now need us to protect us and need us to give everything we have. When you wear this military uniform, you are no longer an ordinary citizen. What you choose is a responsibility and a special glory. This glory is not gold, silver, treasure, wealth and identity, but a simple word of dedication. If the people are in trouble, we must stand in the first row and resist all the sufferings for them. I suddenly felt that this outfit is really heavy, and it completely turned me from a boy to a man who stands tall.

Later, I never complained or felt sad. I also experienced many firsts in my military career, the first time I fired a gun, the first time I fired a grenade, the first time... I recorded every experience I had:

“September 27, sunny

To be honest, I was very nervous. Although the instructor had told us many of the key points of shooting movements and did our homework before, I was still nervous because I didn’t know the sound of gunfire in my ears, will the recoil be very high, what is the bullets, how can I press the bullets into the magazine? I didn’t fall asleep last night, and I don’t know if it was excitement or nervousness. After receiving the bullets, I found that they were much heavier than I thought. The bullets were very pointed, and I felt that they could cut my fingers with a little force. The bullets in the magazine seemed to be able to hold two rows. In fact, each bullet had a small angle of staggered distance. It turned out that the bullets were much heavier than I thought. The bullets were very sharp and felt that they could cut my fingers with a little force. The bullets in the magazine seemed to be able to hold two rows. In fact, each bullet had a small angle of staggering. It turned out that the bullets were more than me.

Imagine it much better to press. A total of five bullets, not long after loading, I ordered us to get up and go to the shooting ground line. At the command of the security officer, we all lay down, picked up the guns on the ground, installed the magazines that had been pressed, always remember what the instructor said, pull the bolt, and a crisp metal sound. I knew I was about to prepare for shooting, three points and one line. Although the target was only 100 meters, it was still difficult to aim at the white spots of the ten rings in the middle. I slowly turned off the security, put my index finger on the trigger, aiming at the target along the muzzle, and suddenly a sentence came to my mind, "You are the gun, the gun is you, this gun grew from your heart."

Wrong, the sentence of Shunliu is very useful here.

A loud bang cut through the tranquility, and a violent vibration came from my right face. Then a roar came from my right ear. I felt everything in my mind dissipated with the sound of the gunshot. Before I could recover, a roar came from my left ear. It turned out that after I fired the gunshot, my comrade on my left also fired a shot. Now my ears were inaudible, but instead calmed me down. So I held the handle tightly, pressed the butt tightly with my shoulder hole, aimed at the target, and finished the remaining four bullets. To be honest, I didn't have much hope for my first shooting results, but when I ran to my own target paper, I was stunned. In the white circle of ten rings, I clearly saw five bullet holes, all concentrated in the range of less than five centimeters in diameter! That's right, fifty rings, wait

When I went back to apply for the target, everyone was like me. I never thought that such a man who shot the gun for the first time actually shot a fire. The captain saw all this in the command post, so he ordered the security officer to run and take my target paper back. After reading it, he said happily: 'Oh! This kid is good! Who! Call this student over, I want to ask him!' So I was called over, asked some of my performance and methods of shooting just now, and then said: 'Hahaha! There is a sharpshooter in our brigade!' Today, I received the captain's personal commendation, and put a big red flower on me in front of the whole team. Then, we sang "Return of Target Shooting" together, accompanied by the fiery sunset, and I was the most dazzling one among the crowd."

This is a relatively long article in my diary. In the days that followed, it always gave me a lot of encouragement, allowing me to tell myself when I couldn't hold on, that in fact, everything was not that bad, but I lacked the courage to persevere. Of course, the first time I threw a grenade was unforgettable. I also left two pull-up rings of grenades as a souvenir.
Chapter completed!