After sending the officer away, Harold sat on his sofa, preparing to accept his wife's roar.
Who knows, his wife just sat helplessly beside him, sighing to herself.
"I know you are worried about me, but if I stay here like this, even my own son will think I am useless." Harold finally spoke to comfort his wife.
"But you know, going to the battlefield will be more dangerous." The woman still doesn't want her husband to take risks.
Going to an ordinary battlefield is already very dangerous, but this time when going to space, the danger is even more unpredictable.
"Who said that? I can install a puppet prosthesis and use magic... This time I have the ability to protect my comrades." Harold squeezed out a smile and looked at his wife.
"What I'm afraid of is that you go out and show off!" The wife looked at her husband even more worriedly, unwilling to let him go away from her again.
"Don't worry! I will come back alive." The man looked at his ordinary wife with pity on his face: "I still have to take care of you and the children! Don't think too much!"
He gently patted the woman's shoulder: "Go! Take out the clothes I kept in the cabinet! Let our son see his father at his most handsome!"
Although the woman was reluctant, she glanced at the draft registration form on the table that had been received by the officer, sighed helplessly, and stood up.
The boy stood there. He didn't know why his father suddenly became aggressive today, and he didn't know what kind of news the soldier who came to see his father brought.
At this age, he still doesn't know what choices his father has made for this family.
The wife easily found the carefully folded clothes in the cabinet. The next morning, she stood beside her husband very virtuously and helped him put on the clothes. Since he returned to this house, he has been wearing them again.
A military uniform that I have never worn before.
It was a retired military uniform with no epaulettes or armbands, a non-commissioned officer's uniform.
The man stood up straight, with his chin held high, and asked his wife to help him fasten the buttons on his collar. Then he glanced at his empty sleeves, with a hint of sadness on his face.
If this arm is still there, he should still be on the front line of the demon world, fighting side by side with his comrades.
After sighing in his heart, he saw his wife carefully helping him put the medals hidden in the drawer on his chest.
Those are all extremely precious medals, medals that come back from bloodshed and sacrifice on the battlefield, and they are all proof of being an enviable warrior.
"Listen to your mother at home." Before going out, Harold rubbed his son's head and told him in the words of an adult: "Be strong! Dad is not at home, and you are the only man in the family! Take care of mother!"
Take care of yourself!”
The little boy nodded, but still didn't speak. Harold glanced at his wife again: "I'll leave it to you at home..."
"Come back safely!" His wife twitched her lips, trying to force out a smile, but failed. Tears fell, and Harold turned around, no longer daring to look at his wife's ordinary face.
That morning, Harold waited for his puppet prosthetic limb. He once again had his hands, and one of the arms could also use magic, and his combat power was amazing!
He took a helicopter and when he arrived at a temporary barracks that night, many veterans who had returned to serve had gathered there.
The whole barracks was very lively. Because the reorganization training had not yet started, ale was even provided in the barracks. There was laughter and laughter everywhere, just like a veterans' fraternity party.
Harold walked on the not-so-wide road to the barracks while looking at those people who regarded returning to the battlefield as a lucky journey.
"The medal for participating in the Battle of Dragon City! You are awesome! You have seniority!" A man with a prosthetic left foot recognized the medal on Harold's chest with an envious look on his face.
Several veterans standing next to this man looked over subconsciously, and Harold was startled by the medals some of them wore.
He thought that a medal for participating in the Battle of Dragon City would be enough to make him stand out among the heroes, but what he didn't expect was that here he could see such high-end goods as the Golden Eagle Medal!
That's a real sword and a real gun, and the future of fighting back on the battlefield risking your life! It stands to reason that the owner of such a medal, even if he is injured and discharged, should have an excellent position.
But this man with the Golden Eagle Medal had a nonchalant expression on his face, as if this medal was nothing to him.
Then, Harold saw the Silver Eagle Medal, the Holy Demon War Zone Service Medal, the Stand Your Ground Medal, the Killing the Enemy Medal...
He also saw the first batch of service medals, the second batch of service medals... and what he was carrying was the third batch of service medals.
This place seems to be a medal museum. Every veteran wears various medals with a proud expression on his face.
Of course, along with these medals are a puppet prosthetic for the left arm, a puppet for the right arm, a puppet for the left leg, and a puppet for the right leg.
Some people have fake left eyes, and some people have fake right eyes - in addition to being a medal museum, this is also a prosthetic limbs exhibition hall.
Harold raised his prosthetic arm uncomfortably, and the five fingers on that very flexible hand moved regularly according to his thoughts.
"Brother! Do you know what our unit is called?" A familiar veteran walked up to Harold and asked with a smile.
"I just came to report, and I don't know the name of the unit yet..." Harold replied somewhat cautiously.
"We call them space infantry here! Infantry flying in the sky! Hahaha!" The familiar veteran was holding a glass of beer, laughing and shouting to the people next to him.
"Hahaha!" As if they heard some joke, several veterans laughed together.
This joke may not be very good, but people here need to vent and vent their joy of returning to the barracks.
"Maybe it's more appropriate to call it the Disabled Company." Harold shrugged and said casually.
Suddenly, the laughter and laughter around him stopped, and everyone who heard this sentence looked at Harold.
Just when the atmosphere was about to become awkward, the veteran holding a beer with a prosthetic arm who was hugging Harold suddenly raised his glass: "Hahahaha! Here's to the Disabled Company!"
"Haha!" Everyone continued to laugh, as if they had heard some particularly funny joke.
Harold also grinned - this is the place he is familiar with, this is the place that belongs to him...
