Lu Hang's head began to hurt slightly. He hated shelling, he hated it! But at the same time, he felt a long-lost pleasure, it was an irrepressible deep excitement, excitement in the bottom of his heart, excitement in his mind, mixed with the headache, pain and excitement, so that his eyes couldn't help but turn gray, and the flame reflected in his eyes was turning from red to white, colorlessly shaking and rising, not like fire at all.

Afraid that the roof would collapse at any time, Staff Officer Yao had already changed to sit in the corner, and he found that the indifferent Lu Hang seemed to be a little distracted: "What's wrong with you?" ”

"I'm fine."

"Stay away from the fire, this roof may see light at any time!"

There is a brick kiln in the brick village, which is a place where bricks and tiles are produced, and no matter how poor the family is, they can still build a house if they are not burned and cannot be sold, and these tiles on the head are still enough to bear.

Someone spoke to make Lu Hang sober up a little, and he moved his position and sat against the wall next to the door instead: "I don't like this voice." Headache. ”

I thought that Lu Hang had never experienced it, but when Staff Officer Yao's eyes looked through the smoke and dust, and saw the handsome gray under the curly brim, what he felt was a suppressed anger and impetuousness, like a monster's body with bruises!

Amid the deafening explosion, there were screams of pain, and the health soldiers rushed out of the house without hesitation, through the smoke, shaken by the sudden shock wave nearby, and then a rain of bricks and tiles smashed his back into the dust and was out of sight.

Curled up and half-lying by the door, the decrepit ghost stretched out his dirty face with a crooked hat to the open door, and through the smoke and dust, he saw the faint back of the health soldier struggling, and continued to move forward, running towards a cry of pain, and the sky fell more faintly.

"Cheap! It's not long-hearted at all! Are you still human! You shit! You can't do anything! Go to hell! Ahem......"

The decaying ghost hissed and cursed in the rumbling explosion, until the roof suddenly leaked a large cloud of dust, and when it hit the ground, it pounced on his face, turning that face completely gray, and he could no longer see the dirt, choking him to cough desperately in the black smoke miasma, coughing enough, and scolding: "I'll fuck you little devil ancestor!" I'll remember it for you......"

Boom - Bang la la -

This time the explosion seemed to be close at hand, and the dusty room was so impacted that nothing could be seen, and only endless pain, impact, cut, and shock could be felt.

The Medicist chose the most sturdy-looking room to provide a refuge for his wounded; The ghosts and fortune tellers chose the most sturdy-looking room to provide themselves with a refuge. But a shell also chose this room, and it exploded on the roof, which was just a coincidence.

All the tiles had collapsed, all the dust had been raised, and the house without its roof still saw no light, and could no longer hear the groans of the wounded soldiers.

It seemed that after a long time, the fortune teller who was huddled in the protective shell of the table, chair and bench in the corner of the wall stopped coughing, and began to know that Suo Suo pushed away the broken tiles beside him, and at the same time asked hoarsely: "Is there any one who is panting?" Help me, I'm stuck. Damn it! ”

There was a sound at the doorway that had collapsed into a small space, followed by the broken voice of the decaying ghost: "Fortune telling? You're not dead? His hearing seemed to be affected, and he didn't listen to what the Reckoning was saying.

"Come and help me!"

"Is the shelling over?"

"Simen, I hit a base in the west earlier, I guess the devil brought two base shells, just now this is half a base, it seems that the remaining half of the base is reluctant to fight." The fortune teller gave a detailed answer, and this baggage soldier clearly judged the shelling situation of the devil through the size of the force and the distance of the march.

"What the are you muttering? Can you be louder? ”

The helpless fortune teller suddenly broke his throat and roared: "Help! ”

The shelling stopped.

The headache is relieved a lot, or the numbness due to the persistence of the pain is considered relief.

In the field of vision, the fire was still colorless, jumping in white, between gray and black. This feeling of losing color is depressing and depressing. Everything is as usual, just no color. Dr. Lin said that it was not an eye problem, but he thought it was an eye problem, maybe the eye was injured by the previous artillery fire, maybe the eye was sick.

Staff Officer Yao was talking, he said that the battle had begun, he was going out to have a look, he was testing his pistol, it was a horse card picker, in fact, it should be called Browning M1903, eight rounds of magazines, delicate and beautiful. He noticed that there was an eye on his gun, so he turned his gaze to the M1932 as well.

"How? If you want to swap with me, I'll consider agreeing. ”

"Is this jealousy?"

Staff Officer Yao smiled: "Okay, I admit it, at this moment, I am jealous of your gun." However, only at this moment, there is no such shop in this village. ”

"You should continue to be envious."

"Want to go out together?" He stood up with his pistol and patted the dust on his shoulder.

"I'm not good at being an adjutant."

"I said the same thing, and the result was ...... I became a staff officer. But today...... but became a battalion commander. He stopped at the door and looked out with a desolate expression. After pausing for a while, he suddenly opened his jacket pocket and took out something: "Originally...... You are our chance to live, and now, we are against you. This is my apology to you. ”

He was gone, and the shots rang out, in all directions, not dense and irregular.

Leaning against the door, staring at the staff officer's bamboo collar badge in his hand, he still couldn't see the color. He knew that it was Phnom Penh, but his eyes were gray; I know that it is red, but my eyes are dark; The crossed bamboo pattern should have been golden, but now only a dazzling white can be seen, and the sections are as white as bones. It's heavy, as if I can't hold it anymore, I don't know if it's this discolored bamboo collar badge or this unusual apology.

I've been distracted for a long time. The sound of gunfire, the explosion of grenades and grenades, shouts, collapses, burnings, has not stopped.

Finally, he put the collar badge in his jacket pocket, stepped out of the black door frame, and breathed through the smoke of the yard, past the mottled or collapsed walls, the gray sky, the gray village, the gray smoke, the gray feet, the gray everything.

Turning the corner of the wall, between the gray floats, someone was crying, and stray bullets flew by from time to time, embedded in the wall, and shattered the tiles. A gray figure knelt in front of him, kneeling in the rain of bullets, not looking up, not dodging, as if he was dead.

Step by step, a ricocheting bullet reflected out of nowhere and tore through the shoulder of the uniform, cutting through the bronze face, and did not stop, continuing to walk to the figure kneeling among the rubble.

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