"Platoon commander, I'm afraid." A young soldier with a dusty face but a big face covered with sweat or tears, but clearly still a little childish, leaned slightly towards a middle-aged soldier with a bandage on his head and an empty right arm.

One of his feet, from the ankle down, was gone, and was coarsely wrapped in a dirty military uniform.

"Shanwa, what are you afraid of? Are you all here with you? Let's go on the road together! Don't be afraid. The middle-aged soldier with the rank of second lieutenant on his collar badge rubbed the head of the soldier who would never be more than seventeen years old with his left arm, and comforted him softly.

The young soldier's gaze swept around, and large tears in his eyes slid down his cheeks again. Before this battle, their entire platoon consisted of 40 people, but now, including the platoon commander, there are only 8 people left, and all of them are seriously injured.

The reason is that their position was hit by a bomb dropped by the devil's plane. More than 20 people were killed in that instant. The anti-artillery holes that were frantically dug in three days could protect against the 75-millimeter mountain guns and field artillery of the little devils, but they could not protect against 250-pound aerial bombs.

The only platoon commander who was able to retreat with both sound legs insisted on staying behind to accompany the brothers in the platoon who were seriously injured and unable to walk.

"Why are you cowardly? Crying a lot. Dog baby, start with you, report the number to Lao Tzu. Lao Tzu looked at a few more who could breathe. The second lieutenant shook his dizzy head and yelled.

A piece of shrapnel cut through a large part of his scalp and even the bones could be seen, but miraculously it was not fatal, but not only was he getting more and more dizzy, and he was ghosted, but what was even worse was that his mind was constantly blank, and he couldn't even remember how long he had been fighting, and there were still a few brothers left in the platoon.

"Yes." A soldier lying on his back beside them struggled to puff up his breath in reply. "One"

His upper body, including his face, was all wrapped in a mess of bandages, stained with blood, and if he had wrapped two more arms, it would have looked like a mummy.

"Two"

"Three"

。。。。。。。。

"Seven"

After half a ring, there was no sound.

The middle-aged soldier looked around, and couldn't help but have tears in his eyes, slowly lowered his high head, and shouted in a low voice: "Eight."

Of the 40-man infantry platoon, eight people survived, and 32 brothers who got along day and night were gone. But it doesn't matter, soon, the 40 brothers will be together for a drink again.

"Shanwa, don't cowardly, raise your head for Lao Tzu, take a good look at these little devils, and when Lao Tzu reports to the king of Yama, when you see them, go up together, and beat the dogs." The middle-aged soldier shook his head vigorously, wrapped his remaining left hand around the shoulder of the soldier who was still a teenager, and said sharply.

Around, there are many people.

The Japanese army has already surrounded it, holding the 38 big cover, and they are extremely vicious.

The Japanese troops, who had already begun to cheer, were also silent for a while.

They finally knew why such a small group of Chinese soldiers was surrounded.

It turned out that they were all seriously wounded soldiers.

They have no legs, no arms, some lie down and can't move, and almost only breathe.

However, these were a few wounded soldiers, who still resisted stubbornly in the trenches, resisting the attack of one of their unarmed squads for a full twenty minutes. And now, they have given up their resistance and are sitting together in groups.

Obviously, they ran out of bullets, and even had no strength for hand-to-hand combat.

The murderous light in his eyes is gradually receding, replaced by respect.

Even if they are as ferocious as the Japanese invaders, on the battlefield where the two armies are fighting, they have to show their respect for these opponents who have used their last strength to resist, and they who advocate the spirit of bushido.

That is beyond national hatred, and comes from the respect for the indomitable spirit in the bones.

"As long as you raise your hands and surrender to the Imperial Army, I, Second Lieutenant of the Imperial Army, Kuroda, will send a note to His Excellency Nishikawa Shozo to ask for your official prisoner of war treatment." A Japanese squad leader with the rank of second lieutenant of infantry stepped forward, stared at the group of Chinese soldiers who had completely lost the ability to resist, and said in a deep voice.

A Japanese military reporter with a camera on the side raised his camera with some excitement and aimed it at the wounded Chinese soldiers sitting there.

As a reporter accompanying the military, he does not deny the shock he felt behind the scenes. However, it would be even more glorious for the Imperial Army to see such a few heroic Chinese soldiers surrendering to the Imperial Japanese Army and raising their hands.

No matter how brave the Chinese soldiers were, they could only choose to give in in front of the Imperial Army.

This photo is definitely the most wonderful photo he has ever taken since he joined the army. In the footage, Japanese reporters have even seen a Chinese who has lost his right arm slowly lifting his only remaining left hand.

Wonderful, so wonderful. This was exactly what he needed.

"Little devil, what did you say? How can I not hear clearly? Your ears have been deaf by your cannons, don't you know? Come, come closer and talk to your grandfather. The Chinese platoon commander, who also wore a second lieutenant badge, raised his hand not to surrender, but to wave at the surrounding Japanese troops who were six or seven meters away from them.

"Yaga, the honor of the Great Japanese Empire cannot be tarnished, I order you again, Chinese, to raise your hands and surrender to the Imperial Army, otherwise it will 。。。。。。" A cold glint flashed in the eyes of the Japanese lieutenant, and he suddenly drew his saber and pointed at the Chinese officer who was smiling and calling him a little devil.

The surrounding Japanese soldiers also raised their guns in accordance with his movements.

"Bah." The Chinese soldier with the rank of second lieutenant suddenly spat out a mouthful of bloody thick phlegm towards Captain Kuroda. "Sanqin Erlang only lives by standing, never dies on his knees, and wants Lao Tzu to surrender? Dream. ”

"The man is inspirational and solid, up." With a chant from the second lieutenant officer who had only the left arm left.

The remaining seven wounded soldiers sang along in their already weakened voices:

"The career is eternal, ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign, Zhu Xianjie, who is not my team. Covering the world is also heaven and earth, and giving birth is also parents,

The splendid banner is sunshine and moonlight, and the famous monument stone beast is negative. Looking back at the beginning, it was all ordinary dragons and tigers,

Huaiyin stayed in the emperor's division, humiliated and stepped down, picked up grass shoes, Kong Ming will be talented, and the thatched house shelters from the wind and rain,

Zong Na Hehe Guo Fenyang, dignified Yue Zhongwu, diplomatic Bismarck, expedition Columbus,

His husband, my husband, is about to follow in his footsteps。。。。。。 ”

The military song of the Northwest Army ---- an inspirational song, which was sounded by eight wounded soldiers under the gaze of dozens of Japanese criminals with loaded guns.

Although there is no tune for a long time, it doesn't matter if there is a tune or not at this time. Even the Japanese army, who did not know much Chinese, could hear the meaning of death in the Shaanxi Qin dialect, which they did not understand at all.

"Yaga! Shut up. The Japanese second lieutenant roared.

"Dogbaby, you're on your way." The Chinese second lieutenant suddenly shouted.

"Roger." The soldier who had been lying motionless on his back grinned with difficulty.

The young soldier who was singing suddenly became less afraid, raised his head and glared angrily at the Japanese in front of him, as if he had just said to the platoon commander brother beside him, remembering the appearance of the Japanese soldiers he could see, and going underground to fight them again.

This is China's territory, and even underground.

A puff of green smoke emanated from beneath the dog. A smile appeared on the face of the wounded Chinese soldier, who was wrapped in strips of cloth of no color, and slowly closed his eyes.

"Yaga! Get down on your stomach. The Japanese second lieutenant, who suddenly saw this scene, was furious, and lay down while roaring.

A second later, I heard a loud "boom", and the fireworks rose up to a height of seven or eight meters.

The Japanese military reporter, who was still looking forward to taking the best photos of his life, was full of flames, and his body involuntarily flew away with the wave of air caused by the explosion.

It flew out for a full dozen meters. By the time he fell, his body was already abnormally twisted, and his neck had turned at least one hundred and eighty degrees.

Under the dog, there were five long-handled grenades, and behind the platoon commander, there was a grenade box with more than 20 grenades in it. Before leaving, he had already decided to live and die with his platoon brothers and asked the company commander to stay, as a heavy weapon for their last defensive position.

It was the only heavy weapon left in the company. The commander of the infantry company who was responsible for covering the evacuation of the whole regiment wept and left a pack of cigarettes with a pack of cigarettes to the most elite infantry platoon under his command, which was no longer able to retreat with the army.

A total of more than 20 grenades, with a total weight of more than two catties of TNT explosives, exploded at the same time, and the power was by no means smaller than a mountain artillery shell, with a radius of 20 meters, and almost all the Japanese troops who did not have time to lay on the ground were swept away by the air wave generated by the explosion.

Needless to say, the eight Chinese soldiers who were sitting around at the center of the explosion had no bones.

But this time, they're really enough. Including the soldier who had lost his eyes and was a little annoyed that he didn't have enough money.

Including the Japanese reporter whose neck was broken by the air wave, there were more than a dozen Japanese soldiers flying seven or eight meters away, and many of them did not even have blood stains on their bodies.

But judging by their motionless bodies, it was clearly more terrible than shrapnel wounds. Explosives, the air waves formed by violent explosions, are the main way they kill people.

The Japanese journalist who died did not know that after all, he had taken the best pictures of his life, and he became famous, but not during this war, but after the war.

Others died, but the camera was miraculously preserved, and the film that had been shot was miraculously undamaged. As a relic of his life, his son washed out the last photograph his father had taken before he died.

Shook the whole world.

Under the prompting of Lieutenant Kuroda's loud roar, although he didn't have time to fall to the ground to avoid the explosion, he shook his hand, pressed the shutter, and took the last image of the eight wounded Chinese soldiers.

He's smiling.

When death comes, smile.