Special Years

"Wow—"

The solemn firewood fell apart without warning, and all the firewood was scattered and rolled everywhere.

"Fuck!"

Zhuang Yan took his pick, stupid.

After a while, he remembered that he was going to save his two bundles of firewood, so he hurriedly picked up the firewood, and followed the example of Yang Songlin, tying and tying it, but he couldn't make a pick - the firewood was tied tightly, and the pick was inserted in the pick. Don't go in; if it's loose, the pick will be pushed in and put on the shoulder and then loose again.

After several failures, Majestic began to crumble.

Tiredness and impatience poured out like spring water in a spring.

After his last effort failed, Zhuang Yan was so angry that he kicked the firewood, and then kicked the firewood to the ground.

He sat on the side of the road, betting on himself with himself, unwilling to move.

Take out the kettle, unscrew the lid and put it to your mouth, but there is no water.

Shake it, but there is no sound, because it is already empty.

Water, also drink up.

At this time, anxiety is like the scorching sun overhead, burning the solemn heart.

"Malle Gobi!"

He cursed angrily, but he didn't know who he was scolding, maybe who was scolding him.

really so tired...

Sitting on the concrete road, Zhuang Yan's sweat dripped down his clothes, and a clear watermark was printed on the concrete road.

Chai couldn't get it right, he was mad with anxiety, and there was nothing he could do. The incomparable melancholy mixed with exhaustion made one feel like he was going to go crazy.

"Doo-dah-dah-"

A tactful trumpet sound came from the teaching team in the distance. It was the closing trumpet, indicating that it was time for lunch.

Soon, there came the loud and neat slogans of "one, two, three, four" -- it's time to gather for dinner.

It's only 500 meters away from his own team, and he can't go back.

Zhuang Yan suddenly felt a strong sense of frustration and a sense of powerlessness.

After being admitted to the teaching brigade and participating in the pre-prepared monitor training, Zhuang Yan was once full of confidence, thinking that there was nothing he couldn't do.

However, facing the small pile of firewood in front of him, he was blinded.

Suddenly, a green Beijing Chekino drove from the direction of the division headquarters, chasing the wind and electricity all the way to the direction of the teaching brigade.

Zhuang Yan suddenly panicked.

Even though this concrete road is only more than three meters wide, in addition to passing through the teaching team, it can also lead to places such as the 271st Regiment Artillery Battalion.

It is not this road that makes Zhuang Yan panic, but this kind of car.

In the 1st division, cars like the Beijing Cherokee are usually driven by division-level cadres. Shuang Yan saw the Cherokee from a distance, and the man bounced off the ground, moved the firewood to the side of the road, and stood at attention. At that time, he gave a military salute.

He saw the license plate.

It's the No. 3 car in the division.

It is said that this is the car of the famous deputy commander Cai of the 1st division.

And this deputy commander Cai, although solemnly never met, is said to be a character who has fought in the southern border, and has made outstanding contributions, practiced ruthlessly, and is feared by everyone.

As a private, solemn is of course a little nervous.

Since the road was too narrow, although the firewood was solemnly dragged to the side of the road, the Cherokee slowed down, vigilantly circumventing the past.

When the car was far away, Zhuang Yan let out a sigh of relief and continued to pack up his firewood, but no matter how hard he tried, those abominable firewood didn't listen to his orders at all, and the situation had not improved at all. Twenty minutes passed, Zhuang Yan still failed. Pack the firewood.

Standing under the blazing sun, he felt like he was going mad.

The dark green Chekino appeared in sight again, this time from the teaching brigade to the division headquarters.

After passing by Zhuang Yan, the car stopped beside him, solemnly stood at attention nervously.

The glass window rolled down, and there was no Deputy Commander Cai with the rank of Colonel in the car, but only a volunteer soldier with an arrow hanging from his shoulder.

The volunteer soldier stretched out his head, looked at the solemn, snorted coldly, and said loudly: "You new soldier! Why haven't you been ready for so long? You are still the squad leader of the teaching team! You can't get a bundle of firewood. Well, it's really useless! Be a fart squad leader?"

After speaking, he threw Zhuang Yan a pair of blank eyes, retracted his head, raised the window, stepped on the accelerator, and walked away in the roar.

Standing solemnly on the side of the road, he was stunned for a long time before he regained his senses.

A feeling of grievance, sadness, and helplessness penetrated the shoes and socks of the soles of the feet from the hot concrete road, and ran through the whole body along the blood...

He grabbed a piece of wood, threw it aside, and sat on the ground, suddenly burst into tears.

I kept asking myself, why should I join the army? Why leave a good time at home? Why come here to suffer? Why do you want to get a bundle of firewood here when someone else has dinner?

The questions clung to his throat like lumps of numbness, and the tears fell to the ground.

Cry, cry, cry well, cry and feel good.

No, you can't practice at home, so you can't tie the firewood; your character is too stubborn, so you have to fight to teach the team; you were tricked by your own father, and this kind of front-line combat troops came to you, so you are considered a third-party year.

But you are wrong again, this is the barracks, the barracks is the place where soldiers are made, there are guns, sweat and blood here, there is no shortage of flying youth and dust, but there is no trust in tears, there is no weak here.

Are you crying?

Then you cry well, cry out, you will feel comfortable...

A hand suddenly clapped on his shoulder, he made a solemn jump, quickly stopped crying, and looked up to see Luo Xiaoming standing in front of him.

"Squad leader..." He stood up suddenly, just opened his mouth and said half a sentence, tears slipped down again~www.wuxiaspot.com~ cry! "Luo Xiaoming said disapprovingly, "A horse urinates at every turn!" Do you look like our soldiers in the army? How should we be soldiers? Bleeding, sweating, not crying! remember! "

When it was over, Luo Xiaoming walked in front of the firewood and divided two by three and five. The bundle of firewood that couldn't be tidy became docile, and soon became tougher than what Yang Songlin helped him bundle.

"Go back with me!" Luo Xiaoming, the captain of the acting district, said in a tone like that of a teacher.

After talking, pick up the firewood, just like carrying a load of light straw grass.

Zhuang Yan followed behind the acting area captain Luo Xiaoming, and walked to the large cement and marble arch of the teaching team in the distance. A red banner was hung on the gate - blood and sweat, no tears, no skin and flesh and no falling behind - the army teaching team.

If at noon on June 29 of that year, you were outside the gate of the teaching team of a certain military department, you would definitely see the private soldier who was wiping his tears and weeping while walking, and walking in front with firewood in his arms. Sergeant. The latest chapter of the novel Special Years Chapter 1 Cry Chapter 29 It is not a sin for a man to cry, cry! URL: https://