Boxes of shells were placed next to the cannons, some of them were empty, and more were fully loaded with ammunition. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info scolds grandma directly, with so many shells, are they going to blow up the regiment headquarters to the ground! Fearing the return of the Japanese army, he pushed boxes of shells down the hill one by one. From this position, the regimental headquarters was very clear, the fire was blazing in the sky, the gunfire was bursting one after another, and the battle was still going on. However, without the cannon to disrupt the situation, I believe that the battle over there will end soon.

The gunfire was still ringing on the mountainside, and the platoon commander was still attacking the mountain with his troops, but he was pinned down by the Japanese soldiers on the mountainside, and he couldn't get up for a while.

The scrivener no longer has any scruples, turns his head and goes straight to the main hall, it is time to calculate the general account. Change the magazine as you go, this time you have to pay for it with blood!

The hall was surprisingly quiet, and the fight was long over. I don't know who the final victor is, the Japanese or the strange old man? The scrivener walked into the hall with a gun, and there were four corpses lying on the ground, and the strange old man was squatting in the center of the hall, looking drowsy.

"Sir, hide quickly, the battle is not over yet." The scrivener said to the strange old man.

No one knows how many Japanese soldiers are still hidden, once they encounter a Japanese soldier with a gun, most of the strange old men will not be able to bear it, no matter how good his kung fu is, he can be faster than a bullet? He told the strange old man to avoid it first, and he planned to kill back to the mountainside.

The strange old man didn't speak, grabbed the arm of the scrivener, and tore open his sleeve with a stab. A horrific wound was revealed, scabbing in some places, bleeding in many more. Only then did the scrivener realize how serious his injuries were. If you don't deal with it, you can bleed and die.

The strange old man tied up the wound in a very peculiar way, and patted his palm lightly on the forehead of the scrivener, and the latter gradually lost consciousness for a moment of dizziness. This level of syncope is very shallow, and even you can feel the strange old man smearing medicine on his wounds, you can feel that something is being fed in your mouth, it is very astringent, and you can hear the gunshots on the mountainside. But I just couldn't open my eyes, as if I had a dream.

When he opened his eyes again, the harsh sunlight penetrated directly into the cornea, and he quickly closed his eyes. It took a while to get used to the strong light.

"You're finally awake." A magnetic female voice said.

When the scrivener opened his eyes and looked around, his eyes were full of white, snow-white walls, snow-white sheets and thin quilts, and even the woman in front of him was white. This is definitely not the top of the mountain, where is it? "Where am I?" He asked.

"This is the health center of the regiment headquarters, and I am Zhang Jia, a hygienist." The woman in the white coat said.

The scrivener closed his eyes, thinking about what had happened, and without asking, he had roughly guessed what had happened: the strange old man had left after dealing with his injuries, leaving himself in a coma at the top of the mountain for the night, and the next day the army searched the mountain, got himself down from the mountain, and sent it here.

"How are you, what's wrong with you?" Zhang Jia, a hygienist, was silent when he saw the scrivener, thinking that something was uncomfortable.

"I'm fine, just thinking about something." The scrivener replied, and subconsciously looked at Zhang Jia in front of him. A beautiful face, very young, with a vigorous vitality in his eyebrows and eyes, and a white dress on his body is particularly holy. The scrivener couldn't help but think of Rena, who rarely saw women in the barracks, and the moment he saw Zhang Jia, he naturally thought of Rena. A very amorous British Army captain, I don't know how she is now, she is still not in India.

"What are you thinking?" Zhang Jia asked with clear eyes.

"Thinking about someone." The scrivener replied casually.

Zhang Jia smiled shallowly, revealing a pair of faint dimples, "It's homesick, I'm homesick too." But it doesn't matter, when the war of resistance is won, everyone can go home and live a peaceful life. ”

The heart of the scrivener is dripping blood, can everyone really go home? Savage Mountain has buried so many warriors that they can't even save their bones, how can they get home? A lot of soldiers were also sacrificed last night, how did they get home? Not everyone can be as lucky as themselves and survive again and again, but can they always be lucky? The scrivener didn't have much confidence in going home. However, he really didn't want to hurt Zhang Jia's kind and simple heart, so he could only nod in agreement and respond: "Yes, you can go home at that time." ”

Zhang Jia took off the sleeve of the scrivener and changed the dressing for the wound neatly. She was very strange that such a serious injury was healing at an incredible speed, which was very different from other soldiers, it was simply a medical miracle.

The curtain was raised, and a person came in. I know the scrivener, Tang Zhongcheng Tang guard, it should be said that he is the chief of the guard, and he is directly responsible for the security work of Commander Liu.

"It's a blessing to wake up so soon. No wonder the head of the regiment has always valued you. You've done great things again, and this time no one can rely on them. Tang Zhongcheng entered the house and praised him first.

Zhang Jia saw someone coming, and left silently after changing the medicine. The scrivener looked at the delicate back and thought of Rena again.

"What do you think?" Tang Zhongcheng interrupted him.

"I didn't ...... It's nothing. "The scrivener is spitting.

Tang Zhongcheng sat on the edge of the bed and continued: "Your treatment is not bad, a single room, a special nurse." This is the treatment of the regimental commander. ”

The scrivener turned red, insisting on changing rooms, or simply going back, his injuries were now fine. Tang Zhongcheng stopped him alive and dead, "Old generation, do you know how much credit you have made?" ”

The scrivener shook his head modestly: "Have I made a meritorious service?" I just did my duty as a soldier. ”

Tang Zhongcheng patted the shoulder of the bookseller, of course, the one that was not injured. "I said Lao Dai, don't be modest, it's too fake to be modest. You killed the cannon that the devil set up on the top of the mountain, right? Amazing! Tang Zhongcheng stretched out his thumb. Do you know how important that cannon is, it almost blew up the regimental headquarters into the sky. The entire encirclement plan is going to go bankrupt. Fortunately, you are here, and the cannon is disposed of in time. Do you say this is fate, God deliberately arranged you by the side of Head Liu? Or Captain Liu said that you are a good general. ”

Through Tang Zhongcheng's conversation, the scrivener learned about the general situation, which was similar to what he thought.

"Old generation, this time you have made a great contribution again, and your superiors will definitely say something, and no one can stop you. Regiment Commander Liu went to the division headquarters early this morning to report to the division commander about the situation last night, and you are naturally indispensable in it. Tang Zhongcheng's eyebrows fluttered when he said this, the previous bookbox had been treated unfairly, and he also felt that he could finally be released this time.