Liu Yu and Shen Wentao are chatting hotly, and Old Man Shen is also a lively person. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 Info especially likes to talk to young people and tell old stories about his past.

I was born on September 18, 1931, the day the "918 Incident" broke out. In the third year of my birth, Japanese devils invaded the village where I was born.

My mother escaped by hiding in the cellar with me in her arms. But at that time, the cellar was too small, so it could only accommodate the two of us. My mother was holding me and hiding under the dark cellar for three whole days.

When we came out of the cellar three days later, the village was in ruins. My mom took me to every corner of the house, but I couldn't find the people and bodies of my grandparents and my father.

Later, my mother carried me through the whole village, and finally found my father's body under the old banyan tree in the village.

When I was still a baby, I was almost stupid by the sight in front of me, and all the villagers in the village who did not escape from the Japanese devils were killed. The corpses were scattered all over the place, including eighty or ninety-year-old grandmothers and grandfathers. There are also middle-aged men and women, and there are babies who have just been born for a short time. There were even autopsied bodies of pregnant women, and my mom fainted crying when she found my family's bodies.

Afraid that the devil would come back, my mother took out half a bag of sweet potatoes from the cellar and left the village with me. We walked forward in confusion, we didn't know where to be safe. We don't know where there are devils, we don't dare to take the avenue, we can only take the mountain path.

In 1936, my mother walked from Hebei to Beijing to seek refuge with relatives. But I didn't know where my relatives were, and in my confusion, my mother took me around and took the mountain path. Sometimes I will swim in the river and jump the stream, and sit on a bamboo raft to ride the big river and so on.

On one occasion, when following the fleeing crowd through a populated village, he entered the village and asked for food rations from the villagers. Unexpectedly, I met bandits, and the bandits got our mother and mother into a cottage. The bandit leader took a fancy to my mother, and my mother tried to prevent the bandits from killing me. In desperation, he followed the big boss in the bandit's den.

In fact, I had a pretty good life in the cottage at that time, and I followed the bandits to get guns. I also recognized the bandits as my godfather, and I was only five or six years old at the time, and I had food and drink for children born in that era. I'm a lucky one, but luck doesn't always befall one person.

In 1938, the cottage fought with the Japanese devils, and at the beginning, because the Japanese devils were not familiar with the route, the cottage narrowly won twice. However, we did not have a supply of explosives and ammunition, and our explosives and ammunition guns were either homemade muskets or stolen guns.

The cottage finally fought with the Japanese devils to the end, until I was the only one left in the cottage. All the explosives in the cottage were blown up, all the bullets were shot, and in the end, they all went up with machetes and fought with the devils.

They are bandits, bad guys, and scourges, but they became heroes in the last moments of their lives. I would have died with them, but at the last moment, my godfather knocked me unconscious and hid.

When I woke up, the cottage had been burned beyond recognition by devils. This time I lost even more, those bandit uncles who used to be cruel to others but were good to me died, all of them died, and they all died. My godfather also died, and my mother wiped her neck to follow my godfather in order not to be insulted by the Japanese.

I was only eight years old at the time, crying very sad and helpless, and I felt my mother and godfather calling me in front of the fire. But they were reduced to ashes in the thick fire, and I kowtowed three times to the cottage.

From the place where the food was hidden in the stockade, I found half a bag of jerky and carried it on my back. picked up a large knife with the blood of Japanese devils on the ground, and a few daggers and short knives set foot on the escape road again.

When I was only eight years old, I didn't know where I was or where I was going. Sometimes I walked in the woods, and when I spent the night at night, I climbed the trees to sleep.

Once, because I didn't climb a tree, I encountered a wild dog. In my sleep, I suddenly felt a tearing pain in my arm, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a wild dog biting my arm. Out of instinct, I took out my short knife and stabbed the wild dog in the neck. The wild dog died, but I was injured.

I had no food left when I met the wild dogs, so I pulled them down the forest stream. I washed the wound on my body with clean water, picked up a handful of firewood, burned the knife red, and put it on the wound to cook the meat so that it was sterilized.

Due to my injury, I did not dare to continue on the road. I roasted the whole dingo and dried it into jerky. Seven days later, my injuries were healed, and I continued on my journey with what little dog jerky I had left. The dog jerky didn't sound like much, but it was made without salt or seasoning. It's similar to biting a rag, it's tasteless and hard to eat.