met free Chapter 1396 The Funeral is Over
Chapter 1396 The Funeral is Over
An old man with gray hair, leaning on a cane, was wailing loudly in front of the monument of the First Battalion of the First Infantry Brigade of Yezhou.
His son was a squad leader in the third company of the battalion before his death.
"You little brat—you said you'd let me take care of your grandson when you got your day off..."
The cane fell to the ground.
He held the cold monument as if it were his son before he joined the army.
"How could you do this—how could you let me, an old man, bury my son—"
No one helped him up, no one tried to persuade him.
Because everyone present knew that at this moment, words were inadequate.
Only the sound of crying is real.
-
A middle-aged woman dressed in dark gray overalls squatted in front of the monument of the 4th Battalion of the 1st Infantry Brigade of Yezhou, adding handfuls of paper to the brazier.
She didn't burn proper yellow paper, but rather stacks of neat letter paper.
That was a letter her son wrote to her before he died.
She kept every single one of them.
I would put it under my pillow, take it out in the dead of night, and read it over and over again by the light of the emergency light.
There was nothing earth-shattering about it in the letter.
It's nothing more than what we ate today, how tiring the training was, which comrade made a fool of themselves, and the wild cat behind the barracks having given birth to three kittens.
Every letter ends the same way:
"Mom, I'm doing well, don't worry. I'll come back to see you when I get my leave from the army."
She didn't cry out, but just burned the letter, the firelight reflecting on her finely lined face, flickering on and off.
When the last sheet of paper was thrown into the brazier, the flames suddenly shot up, instantly engulfing the densely packed writing.
She finally spoke, her voice eerily calm:
"My son, I don't miss you anymore."
"I hope everything is alright for you over there."
-
A young soldier, wearing the training uniform of the 1st Infantry Brigade of Yezhou, had his left sleeve empty, fluttering gently in the wind.
He knelt for a long time in front of a series of monuments.
The inscription on the monument reads: 2nd Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Infantry Brigade of Yezhou.
That was his former company.
Three months ago, he was injured by homemade explosives used by roving armed groups during a clearing operation and was forced to retire.
Now, his comrades-in-arms are all enshrined in this monument.
He bent down, his forehead pressed against the cold surface of the monument, rainwater sliding down his back and forming small streams on the granite base.
His voice was low, as if he were having a late-night chat with his roommate:
"Squad leader..."
"I'm useless."
"I couldn't be with you all..."
...
-
In the center of the cemetery.
The soaked battle flag fluttered wildly in the wind.
Mars rose from all directions, converged, and danced across the sky.
Like countless sparks, they rush towards the same sky.
Like countless heroic souls, they return to the world in another form.
Gu Chengyuan was still standing in front of the tombstone that was half the height of the previous one, his eyes red.
He didn't turn around, but he heard everything...
I heard my mother's heart-wrenching cries.
I heard my sisters-in-law's broken sobs.
I heard the mournful cries that rose and fell throughout the entire cemetery, as deep as the sea.
He did not stop them, did not say "please accept my condolences," and did not, as the commander of the theater command, demand that anyone maintain their dignity.
At this moment, on this land closest to the sky—
He was no longer the chairman of Zhou Bang's military commission.
He is no longer the commander of the Central Plains Theater.
He was just Gu Chengyun's older brother, an ordinary family member of a martyr...
He bent down, reached out his hand, and touched the cold surface of the monument with his fingertips. He slowly traced the inscription "Tomb of Martyr Gu Chengyun" stroke by stroke.
Just like when I was a child, I held my younger brother's hand and taught him to write his name stroke by stroke.
...
Deep in the rain and mist, the dawn finally broke through the last layer of clouds, and golden light slanted down.
It sprinkled on the short, thin tombstone, on the dark blue gloves, on Gu Chengyuan's soaked black hair and shoulders, on the entire Yangwang Slope, on the three thousand and one stone steps, and on the silent black river that meandered down, tied with white linen.
The wind stopped.
The rain has stopped.
Sparks drifted down slowly, like black snow, covering the white monuments, the soaked yet still unfurled battle flag, and the shoulders of everyone who wept, stood in solemn silence, and remembered.
At an altitude of 1,712 meters, this is the place in Guizhou that is closest to the sky, and also the eternal resting place of the heroes.
-
As dawn broke, the sea of clouds surged.
Looking up at the slope, more than three hundred plain white tombstones lit up one after another in the golden light, like more than three hundred lamps that never go out, pointing southeast, pointing to Gucheng Lake, pointing to the civilized frontier that they protected with their lives and which has not yet fallen, pointing to the future of mankind that countless survivors are recovering inch by inch.
The spirits of heroes live on, and their journey continues!