Boundless darkness shrouded the earth, the sound of gunfire from the north and east was still fierce, and from time to time, flares flashed across the night sky and illuminated the night sky. The war was still intense.
However, for the officers and soldiers of the 61st Division who had withdrawn from their positions to rest, they could finally have a good sleep after several days and nights of fierce fighting. They did not have to worry about the Japanese attacking them at night. After all, there were friendly troops blocking the front.
Yang Ling and others withdrew late. When the rest of the sleepy and tired remnant soldiers fell asleep after a full meal, they were sitting around the fire cooking porridge.
Each person received only two taels of millet, and it was impossible to eat dry rice because they didn't know when the next supply would arrive. They had to eat one meal but not the next. In order to avoid starvation, they could only save some and cook porridge.
Moreover, they had not eaten for a long time, and they could only eat porridge mixed with grain cakes without hurting their stomachs. The lunch boxes used to cook the porridge were from captured Japanese soldiers, and they were currently placed on the fire, steaming.
The gruel was steaming in the lunch box. The remaining soldiers formed a circle and stretched their necks to wait for the meal. Fatty Tian San kept swallowing his saliva.
The aroma of the millet porridge boiled away, dissipating the smell of gunpowder smoke and blood in the air, and making the stomachs of the remaining soldiers growl.
"Mr. Lian, it should be ready to eat, right?" The fat man stared at the gruel and asked eagerly.
Looking at the fat man who had turned his attention back to food, Yang Ling finally breathed a sigh of relief. He was worried that he would be unable to get out without eating or drinking because of the hatred he had harbored in his heart because of Luo Ziqiang's death.
But it was obvious that Yang Ling felt that his worries were unnecessary. Even in the face of deep hatred, Fatty still didn't forget to eat. As long as he knew how to eat, at least he didn't have to waste time trying to enlighten him.
Yang Ling carefully took down the lunch box where the porridge was cooked and gave a little to each remnant soldier. The remnant soldiers couldn't wait to put the hot porridge into their mouths. Their mouths were so hot that they were gasping for breath.
The enemy's artillery blockade was so severe that they could only eat cold pancakes on the battlefield, and sometimes there were no pancakes at all. Now that they were eating hot porridge, some couldn't help but shed tears in their eyes.
They were able to get out and eat hot porridge, but many of them kept talking about it for a long time, and in the end they had no chance to open their mouths and enjoy the hot meal.
The remnant soldiers ate so deliciously that they licked the bottom of the bowl clean with their tongues. It was not easy to eat hot porridge, and they cherished it.
"It would be great if I could eat meat sometime." The fat man lay on the reed pole, touched his belly, and spoke with lingering thoughts.
Lao Yanqiang put down his lunch box, and finally a smile appeared on his dusty face, "It's good to have porridge to drink and cakes to eat. You still want to eat meat, you are so beautiful."
The fat man ignored the old smoker, looked at the dark night sky, and suddenly felt homesick.
After a full meal, the exhausted remnants of the soldiers regained some energy and energy. They lay on the ground enjoying a rare rest and were no longer so decadent. Although they withdrew, Yang Ling still did not dare to let down his guard.
This place is not very far from the front position. Although there are friendly troops in front of it, the large Japanese troops cannot get through, but they cannot prevent the Japanese from infiltrating and inserting small groups of troops.
They were not killed on the position. If they were killed by a small group of Japanese troops who had infiltrated, it would be a big joke. So Yang Ling sent a sentry to the east where he thought the enemy was most likely to appear.
"Company officer, can you write a letter for me?" The fat man turned over and approached Yang Ling and asked cautiously.
The old smoker was puffing away the half-smoked cigarette he had picked up from the dead man in his mouth, and he hit the fat man: "Fat man, don't bother, even if you write it, you won't be able to send it."
What Lao Yanqiang said is right, the war is in chaos now, they are on the battlefield, where can they send the letter.
"Why are you writing this letter?" Yang Ling was a little curious.
The fat man hesitated for a long time before he said: "I want to tell my mother that she is safe. It has been more than half a year since she came out, but she has not sent any news back..."
The reason why Fatty wanted to write the letter was because he had his own considerations. He used to be careless and just know how to eat. Luo Ziqiang protected him and kept him safe. However, Luo Ziqiang's death made him mature a lot and he began to miss home and his mother.
Fatty wanted to be a deserter countless times, return to his home and never come out again, but he wanted to avenge Luo Ziqiang, and he couldn't be a deserter, so he wanted to write a letter to his mother, in case he died, he would be a deserter.
When my mother saw her letter, she at least had something to think about.
The fat man looked at Yang Ling pleadingly, because only Yang Ling in the company was literate and the rest were old men, so he could only pray to Yang Ling.
"But I don't have paper and pen?" Although Yang Ling wanted to help fat Tian San, it was hard for a clever woman to make a meal without straw, so he had no choice.
"Company officer, do you really agree to help me write it?" The fat man's face was full of excitement.
Before Yang Ling could speak, the fat man had already struggled to stand up from the reed pole: "Company officer, I'm going to find paper and pen right now." As he spoke, the fat man limped quickly towards not far away.
He ran to the house where he lived, fearing that Yang Ling would regret it.
"When did the fat man have such a high consciousness and know how to write letters home?" Lao Yanqian touched his head and muttered to himself. Thinking that he was single, he couldn't help feeling a little sad. The fat man could still write letters, but he couldn't help but feel sad.
There is no place to send letters.
Yang Ling sat by the fire and cleaned his gun. The old smoker tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. Finally, he broke the silence: "Brother Yang, where do you think we should evacuate to tomorrow?"
The 61st Division was withdrawn to rest due to heavy casualties, but Lao Yanqiang was always very uneasy and had no bottom. The fighting on the front line was so fierce that he might have to pull back.
The remnant soldiers who were not sleeping around also gathered around. They were also worried about their future. The war was cruel, and their lives were like duckweeds in the turbulent sea. They had no control over their lives.
Yang Ling looked at the remnant soldiers who were full of good looks, and analyzed with a smile on his face: "Our division has suffered such heavy losses. Even if we want to pull up, we won't go to the front. At most, we will cover the flanks. There is nothing to worry about."
After hearing Yang Ling's analysis, Lao Yanqiang felt that it made sense. Their division originally had more than 8,000 people, but now only a few hundred people were left alive. Lao Yanqiang breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of not having to fight the Japanese head-on.
Seeing the remnant soldiers who were obviously much more relaxed, Yang Ling said, "Everyone, please rest quickly. We may have to go on a journey tomorrow."
Lao Yanqiang said hello to Yang Ling and quickly fell into a deep sleep. The rest of the remaining soldiers were too tired after fighting hard for days and nights, and started snoring not long after they fell down.
Fatty Tian San quickly ran back, panting, holding toilet paper and a brush in his hands, his face full of joy, and he didn't know how he got it from the clerk's hands.
The war raged for three months, and a letter from home was worth ten thousand dollars. Although he knew that he could not send it on this battlefield, Yang Ling still did not refuse the fat man's thoughts, and wrote a letter from home for him seriously to fulfill his wish.