I got into a troop carrier numb and sluggish, and sat there like a puppet.

My mind played back and forth the details of Sachie's death, as if I could find some details that would bring him back to life.

Thinking about these trivial things, I realized that the horror of war is not in the moment of life and death, but in the time of life, the time of struggle with various emotions.

I suddenly laughed at myself a little, trying to comfort myself that war is meant to kill people, there is no need to be so sad, so many people have experienced life and death, and I should be as heartless as them.

At this time, the car stopped, and a few people around me went down to check it, and then they gestured to me and told me to go down too, and they tried many times to get me to react.

Perhaps it was their movements and voices that brought me back to some of my sobriety consciousness, instinctively made me answer them simply, and told me to get up and get out of the car, and such words and movements also worked, and I felt a little more alive.

I told myself it wasn't too serious, it was just a nightmare I had to forget.

And then I continued to fantasize that maybe tomorrow a general would announce to us that the human counteroffensive plan had begun, that we would retake the Gamba River, retake the Kara Line, and even recapture Kuixing.

I can't help but be a little pessimistic when I think of this, as if I have never experienced a victory since I came to the front, the kind of victory that has broken through the cracks and beaten the Rosha people in pieces, as if we are always in retreat.

Then a sudden wave of anger ran through my body, and I began to truly hate the Rosha, and I wanted to avenge Sachie.

Before, the hatred of the Rosha was just a concept that had been repeatedly promoted in my ears, but now, it has become a real thing, and I hate the Rocha people, they let one of my best friends die.

The cloudy expression on my face caught the attention of a wounded man, who was right next to me, his combat suit was in tatters, and he asked me: "What are you thinking?" Brother, he looks preoccupied. ”

I replied: "One of my friends died, blown up by the damned Rosha"

He shook his head and said, "At least I didn't suffer any pain from being killed by the explosion, I had 3 small holes pierced in my stomach, and now I feel like life is worse than death every day."

At this time the soldiers in front began to stand upright, and I saw a commander standing in a two-man command car, turning back to inspect the troops, he took off his helmet, and shouted in a rough voice:

"Cheer me up! The Rosha have become entangled with our troops, and now we can't tell which ones are friendly and which ones are the Roshas, everyone, ready to fight! ”

A soldier has a very good quality, that is, no matter how embarrassed he is, as long as the commander gives an order, he will immediately regain his spirits.

The whole team moved, everyone was in place, the captain of my car also noticed me, he pointed at me and said: "I don't ask you which unit you belong to, now the whole front line is a mess, we are from the 351st Division, you will follow us for the time being, now, your task is to drive, this car is only for the wounded for the time being, you are responsible for them."

I now feel like I've come out of the puppet state, the war is going on, and I now have a new mission.

I climbed into the cab, and there sat a soldier with half of his nose missing, who was also a makeshift skirmisher, and when he saw his successor coming, he immediately shrank back to the co-pilot.

I was thinking about whether or not to make friends with him, and it took less than 5 seconds for the guy to purr.

Behind me, about 20 seriously wounded people were carried into the car one after another.

I thought in my depression that this was another miscellaneous job, and that I had been doing the same job since I had been withdrawn from the Gamba River, which was to transport the wounded, which belonged not to the medical soldiers, nor to the soldiers, but only to miscellaneous soldiers like me.

However, before I could finish complaining, as soon as the broken car started to take off, a puff of green smoke came out, and then it fell from a height of more than ten centimeters.

The commander who gave me the order immediately asked me on the communicator, "What's wrong?!"

It may be that Shi Archie's death has distorted my psychology a little, and I actually feel schadenfreude at the moment that this car broke down, anyway, things are rotten like this, and I will see how this chief ends.

As a result, the commander's words made me extremely angry, and he just yelled simply and rudely: "There is no extra car, mechanic, fix it!" The troops are waiting for you at the front! ”

A swear word burst out of my mouth in an instant, but the selfish captain had already cut off the communication and drove away.

I'm a mechanic, but I don't have any tools, I don't have any parts, and just thinking about it on my knees I know I can't fix the engine of this car.

The large army had already moved forward, and they were all afraid of being surrounded, and the only way I could think of was to walk, after all, to stay here would be to die.

I got out of the car and ran to the back door, kicked open the back door with my foot, and explained the situation to everyone.

There was a strong smell from the back cabin, and these wounded people had no choice but to leave their feces and urine in the car.

The wounded cursed, but driven by the desire to survive, seven or eight people who could still walk stood up, their combat suits and exoskeletons in tatters, and their haggard faces beneath their torn helmets.

At this time, the wounded who could not move began to wail, they knew that they were going to be abandoned, and I even heard the cry.

The few wounded who could still walk turned around and saluted the people in the car, then bowed and said, "I'm sorry brothers, seven or eight of us, even if we carry it, we can't carry you, we can leave you a bomb at most, and when the Rosa people come, let's pull a few cushions......"

The wailing in the car became heavier, and the seriously wounded who could still speak begged us not to abandon them. But one man slammed the car door shut.

Just the day before yesterday, I was lamenting that this unit would not abandon my comrades, but now when we abandon these seriously wounded, I didn't even say a word the whole time.

I was the only one here who was not injured, and the only one who had a gun, and although these seven or eight wounded were able to walk, they no longer had any ability to fight, and their guns were all taken away.

We walked for a while, and one of the wounded fell down and could not get up again, when a black spot appeared on the road behind us.

I nervously picked up my gun, and the wounded behind me looked at it in despair, not even bothering to do hiding.

I don't know why I'm standing in the middle of the road with my gun in hand, maybe because of my comrades behind me.

I have built a line of defense for one person, which is the forefront of the entire human race.

But the lady of luck favored me again, and the black spot was not a Rocha, but our armored car that had survived, and perhaps because they understood the fear and despair of being left behind, they stopped, stuffed the wounded into the cramped car, and I squeezed into the cab, and then we went forward to chase the big army.