On the ninth day of August in the ancient calendar in 1939, my father, a bandit species, was a little over 14 years old.
He followed the team of the legendary hero, Commander Yu Zhanao, who became famous all over the world, to ambush the enemy's car team on Jiaoping Highway.
The grandma puts on her jacket and escorts them to the village.
Commander Yu said: "Stay standing."
Grandma stood still.
Grandma said to my father, "Dougan, listen to your godfather."
The father didn't say a word. He looked at grandma's tall body and smelled the hot scent from grandma's jacket. He suddenly felt cold.
He fought a fight and his stomach gurgled for a while.
Commander Yu patted his father on the head and said, "Go, fuck."
The world is chaotic, the scenery is shadowy, and the team's cluttered footsteps have sounded far away.
A blue and white fog curtain hung in front of his father, blocking his vision, only the footsteps of the team were heard, but the shape and shadow of the team were not visible.
Father tightly grabbed the corner of Yu Commander's clothes and moved his legs quickly.
Grandma's like a shore is getting farther and farther away, and the fog is like sea water getting closer and turbulent, and father grasping Commander Yu is like grasping a ship's rail.
In this way, my father rushed to the bluestone tombstone with no words that belonged to him in the red sorghum field of his hometown.
There was already withered grass on his grave. Once there was a bare-bottomed boy who came here with a snow-white goat. The goat gnawed the grass on the grave without hesitation. The boy stood on the tombstone and sprinkled it angrily. Take a pee, then sing loudly:
Sorghum is red - Japan is here - compatriots are ready - shoot and shoot -
Some people say that this boy herding sheep is me, I don't know if it is me.
I used to have extreme love for Gaomi Dongbei Township and extreme hatred for Gaomi Dongbei Township. When I grew up, I worked hard to learn Marxism. I finally realized that Gaomi Dongbei Township is undoubtedly the most beautiful, ugly, detached, most mundane, holy and most holy on earth. Dirty, the most heroic, the most bitch, the most drinking and loving place.
My fathers and villagers who live on this land like to eat sorghum and plant them in large quantities every year.
In the late autumn of August, the boundless red sorghum becomes a sea of ​​blood in the ocean, the sorghum is high in density and brilliant, the sorghum is sad and lovely, and the sorghum love is surging.
The autumn breeze is bleak and the sun is very strong. There are plump white clouds in the blue sky, and the purple-red shadows of plump white clouds are sliding on the sorghum.
Teams of dark red people shuttled among the sorghum trees to pull the net for decades.
They murdered and overwhelmed their products and served the country with loyalty. They performed scenes of heroic and tragic dance dramas, which dwarfed our living unscrupulous children and grandchildren. While making progress, I really felt the degradation of the species.
After leaving the village, the team marched on a narrow dirt road. The sound of people's footsteps was mixed with the rustling of grass on the side of the road.
The fog is thick and lively and changeable.
On my father's face, countless dense small drops of water condense into large particles of water, and a bunch of his hair sticks to the scalp.
The faint mint smell and the bitter and sweet smell of mature sorghum coming from the sorghum fields on both sides of the road, my father has long been accustomed to hearing it, is not new or unusual.
During this march in the fog, my father smelled the novel, yellow and red smell.
The smell faintly penetrated through the smell of mint and sorghum, evoking a very distant memory in the depths of my father's heart.
Seven days later, on August 15th, the Mid-Autumn Festival.
A bright moon rose slowly, and the sorghum everywhere stood silently. The sorghum ears were soaked in the moonlight, as if dipped in mercury, gurgling and shining. Under the cut moon shadow, my father smelled a sweet smell countless times stronger than now.
At that time, Commander Yu took his hand and walked in the sorghum field. More than 300 folks folded their thigh-occipital arms, and the corpses were messy. The blood irrigated a large piece of sorghum and soaked the black soil under the sorghum into thin mud. They are slow to pull their feet.
The sweet smell is suffocating. A group of dogs who came to eat human flesh sat in the sorghum field, staring at his father and Commander Yu.
Commander Yu took out the Zilaid pistol, and with a flick of his hand, the two dog eyes went out; and with another hand, the two dog eyes went out.
The group of dogs dispersed, sitting far away, roaring and looking at the dead body greedily.
The fishy sweetness became stronger, and Commander Yu shouted: "Japanese dog!
Japan as a bitch! "
He shot all the bullets at the group of dogs, and the dogs ran without a trace.
Commander Yu said to my father, "Let's go, son!"
When I was old and young, I faced the moonlight and walked deep into the sorghum.
The sweet smell that permeated the field soaked my father's soul, and this sweet smell has been with him in the more intense and cruel years in the future.
The stems and leaves of sorghum screamed in the fog, and the bright noise of the Mohe River running through this low-lying plain flowed slowly in the fog, strong and weak, and distant and near.
After catching up with the team, his father's footsteps and heavy breathing sounded from behind and in front of him.
Someone’s butt hits the other’s butt.
I don’t know anyone’s foot trampled on a dead man’s skeleton or something.
The person in front of his father coughed, his cough was very familiar.
When my father heard him coughing, he thought of his big ears that were congested when he got excited.
The big transparent and thin ears with blood vessels are the eye-catching organs on Wang Wenyi's head.
He was very small, with a big head tucked into his shrugged shoulders.
Father looked hard, his eyes pierced through the thick fog, and he saw Wang Wenyi's big head that was shaking while coughing.
Father remembered that when Wang Wenyi was beaten on the drill field, the big head turned into such a pitiful appearance.
At that time, he had just joined Commander Yu’s team, and Ren’s adjutant shouted to him on the drill field and other players: Turn right—Wang Wenyi stomped happily, not knowing where he went.
Adjutant Ren struck him with a whip, and he grinned: The child is his mother!
I don't know whether the expression on his face is crying or laughing.
The children who were watching the scene outside the short wall laughed.
Commander Yu flew up and kicked Wang Wenyi's ass.
"Cough what?"
"commander……"
Wang Wenyi endured his cough and said, "I have itchy throat and eyes..."
"Don't cough itchy!
I want your head to expose the target! "
"Yes, Commander."
Wang Wenyi agreed, and another burst of cough came out.
The father felt that Commander Yu had taken a big step before he touched Wang Wenyi's nape with his hand.
Wang Wenyi sizzled in his mouth, and then stopped coughing.
Father felt that Commander Yu’s hand had loosened from the back of Wang Wenyi’s neck. His father also felt that there were two purple handprints like ripe grapes left on Wang Wenyi’s neck. Wang Wenyi’s blue, frightened eyes flew. A few words of gratitude and grievances.
Soon, the team got into the sorghum field.
My father instinctively felt that the team was heading southeast.
The dirt road that Shicai walked is the only way from the village to the ink river.
The narrow dirt road is blue and white during the day.
The road was originally made of black soil with black oil, but after being trampled on, the black color settled to the bottom. How many hoof prints of cows and sheep’s petals and half-circle hoof prints of mules and horsehairs have been printed on the road. Cow dung is like pancakes eaten by insects, and sheep dung is sparse like black beans shaking off.
My father often walked this way. Later, when he spent years in Japanese charcoal kilns, he often flashed this way before his eyes.
My father doesn't know how many romantic tragedies and comedies my grandmother has starred in on this dirt road, I know.
My father didn't know that on the black soil hidden by the shadow of sorghum, I knew that grandma's white and smooth body was once lying on it.
After turning into the sorghum field, the fog is more stagnant, the mass is greater, and the sense of flow is less. After the human body collides with the sorghum stalks loaded by the person, with the sorghum clanging, a big drop and a big drop The heavy drops of water plopped down.
The water droplets were cold and refreshing, and the taste was delicious. When my father raised his face, a large drop of water drop accurately into his mouth.
Father saw the heavy head of sorghum shaking in the soothing mist.
The dewy leaves of sorghum saw his father's clothes and cheeks.
The sorghum swaying caused a small wind to strike above his father's head, and the sound of the ink river's running water became louder and louder.
My father played with water in the Mokhe River. His water quality seemed to be innate. Grandma said he was more anxious to see water than to see his mother.
When my father was five years old, he dived like a duck, his pink buttocks were facing the sky and his feet were raised high.
Father knew that the silt at the bottom of the Ink River was shiny black and soft as grease.
On the damp tidal flat by the river, there are clusters of gray-green reeds and goose-green plantains, as well as kudzu vines growing on the ground, and elderflowers standing upright.
The muddy mud flats are covered with slender crab claws.
When the autumn breeze started and the weather was cold, a group of geese flew south, forming a "one" for a while, and a "person" for a while, and so on.
The sorghum is red, the west wind is sounding, the crab feet are itchy, and groups of horseshoe-sized crabs crawl up the river beach at night to feed in the grass.
Crabs like to eat fresh cow dung and rotting animal carcasses.
My father listened to the sound of the river, thinking about the scene of the old man Liu Luohan going to the river to catch crabs with my old man Liu Luohan on the previous autumn night.
Gray grapes at night, golden winds cascading rivers, the sapphire blue sky is deep and boundless, and the green stars are particularly bright.
The Big Dipper Spoon Star-the Lord of the Big Dipper is dead, the Nandou Dustpan Star-Nan Dou Sisheng, the Octagonal Glass Well-is missing a brick, the anxious Cowboy wants to hang himself, the sad Weaver Girl wants to jump into the river...
Are all hanging over their heads.
Uncle Liu Luohan has worked in my house for decades, and is responsible for the overall work of our shochu workshop. Father followed Uncle Luohan on foot, just like his grandfather.
Father's heart disturbed by the fog lit up a cover lamp made of four pieces of glass, and foreign oil fume came out of the iron sheet and perforated iron sheet on the cover lamp.
The light is faint and can only illuminate the darkness in a radius of five or six meters.
The water in the river flows into the shadow of the lantern, and the yellow is as lovely as a ripe apricot, but it flows over in a moment of cuteness, and the river in the dark reflects the stars of the day.
Father and Uncle Luohan dressed in fur clothes and sat beside the lamp, listening to the low sob of the river—a very low sob.
The endless sorghum fields on both sides of the river often sounded the excited cry of the puppet-seeking fox.
The crab tends to the light and gathers towards the shadow of the lamp.
Father and Uncle Luohan sat quietly, listening to the whispers of the world, the smell of silt under the river, one by one.
Swarms of crabs gathered around, forming a restless circle.
The father was panicked and eager to get up. Uncle Luohan held his shoulders down.
"Don't worry!"
The uncle said, "Don't drink hot sticky porridge if you are anxious."
The father suppressed the excitement and did not move.
The crabs stopped when they climbed into the light, head to tail, covering the land.
A cyan crab shell was shining, and a pair of round rod-shaped eyes punched out of the sunken eye sockets.
Hidden in his mouth under the inclined face, he spit out a string of colorful bubbles.
The crab spit out colorful foam and challenged others, and his father was dying and dying.
Uncle Luohan said: "Catch!"
The father bounced at the sound and rushed over with Uncle Luohan. Each one grabbed the two corners of the dense mesh net that had been laid on the ground, and lifted a bunch of crabs, revealing the river beach under the crabs.
Father and Uncle Luohan tied up the two corners and threw them aside, and lifted the mesh with the same speed and skill.
Every net is so heavy that hundreds of thousands of crabs live in the net.
After the father followed the team into the sorghum field, because the heart was walking diagonally with the crab, his feet and legs did not choose any gaps, and the sorghum trees were knocked down.
His hands were always tight to the corners of Commander Yu's clothes, half walking by himself and half holding them forward. He actually felt a little sleepy, his neck stiff, and his eyes jerky and dull.
My father thought, as long as you follow Uncle Luohan to Mohehe, there is no reason to come back empty-handed.
Father is tired of eating crabs, and grandma is tired of eating crabs too.
The food is tasteless, but it is a pity to discard it. Uncle Luohan uses a sharp knife to chop the crabs into pieces, grind them in a tofu mill, add salt, fill the jars, and make crab sauce. Feed the poppy when it's finished.
I heard that grandma smokes a lot of cigarettes but is not addicted, so she always looks like a peach blossom and is refreshed. The poppy flowers that have been fed by crabs are fat and strong, pink, red and white are mixed, and the aroma is tangy.
The black soil of my hometown is surprisingly fertile, so it has abundant products and good race.
The people's mind is high and healthy, this is my hometown mentality.
The white eel rich in Moshui River is fat like a stick, with a thorn from head to tail.
They are stupefied and swallow at the hook.
Uncle Luohan, whom his father was thinking about, died last year, on the Jiaoping Highway.
His corpse was cut in pieces, thrown into pieces.
The skin on the torso was peeled, flesh jumping, flesh jumping, like a big frog after peeling.
When my father thought of Uncle Luohan's body, the spine ditch became cold.
My father remembered one night about seven or eight years ago. My grandma was drunk. In the courtyard of my shochu workshop, there was a pile of sorghum leaves. Grandma leaned on the haystack and hugged Uncle Luohan’s shoulders, whispering. Said: "Uncle... Don't go.
Do not look at the face of the monk to see the face of the Buddha, do not look at the face of the fish, look at the surface of the water, do not look at my face, but also look at the face of Douguan, stay, you want me... I will give you... You are like my father same……"
Father remembered that Uncle Luohan pushed grandma aside, walked into the mule shed swayingly, and mixed ingredients for the mule.
My family has two big black mules and a workshop that burns sorghum wine. He is the richest man in the village.
Uncle Luohan did not leave, and remained as a business leader in my house until the two big black mules in my house were dragged by the Japanese to the Jiaoping Highway construction site for service.
At this time, from the village left behind by his father and the others, there was a long donkey cry.
Father's spirits lifted and his eyes opened, but what he saw was still a semi-solidified and semi-transparent mist.
The tall and straight sorghum stalks are arranged in dense fences, vaguely hidden behind the gas, passing through row after row, endless rows.
How long has it been in the sorghum field, my father has forgotten that his mind has been stuck in the noisy and fertile river in the distance for a long time, in the memories of the past, he did not know that he was in such a hurry and crowded and crowded. What is the reason for entering the dreamlike sea of ​​sorghum fields?
Father lost his position.
He had the experience of getting lost in the sorghum field the year before, but he finally walked out, and the sound of the river guided him.
Now, my father listened to He's revelation again, and quickly understood that the team was heading eastward by the south, facing the direction of the river.
When the direction was clear, my father understood that this was going to ambush, hit the Japanese, and kill people, just like killing a dog.
He knew that the team had been heading southeast, and soon they were going to the Jiaoping highway that cuts the huge low-lying plain into two halves and connects the two towns of Pingdu County, Jiao County.
This road was built by the Japanese and their lackeys using whips and bayonets to force the people to build it.
The turmoil of the sorghum became frequent and intense because of people's fatigue and sleepiness, and the accumulation of dew continued to fall, soaking everyone's scalp and neck.
Wang Wenyi coughed constantly, even though he was insulted by Commander Yu, he did not correct it.
Father felt that the road was approaching, and the shadow of the road was shaking in front of his eyes.
Unknowingly, some cavities appeared in the sea of ​​fog, and the ears of sorghums dampened with dew looked sadly at my father, who also looked at them religiously.
My father suddenly realized that they were all living creatures.
They take root in the black soil, are affected by the sun and the moon, and are nourished by the rain and dew.
From the color of the sorghum, my father guessed that the sun had been obscured by the sorghum and burned into a pitiful bright red.
Suddenly something changed, and my father heard a sharp whistling in his ear, and then heard something cracking in front of him.
Commander Yu yelled: "Who shot?
Brother-in-law, who fired the shot? "
The father heard the bullet pierce through the dense fog, pass through the sorghum leaves and sorghum stalks, and a sorghum head fell to the ground.
For a moment everyone held their breath.
The particle bomb screamed all the way, not knowing where it fell.
The fragrant smoke diffused into the mist.
Wang Wenyi screamed: "Commander-I have no head-Commander-I have no head -"
Commander Yu was taken aback, kicked Wang Wenyi, and said, "You motherfucker!
Can speak without a head! "
Commander Yu left my father and went to the front of the team.
Wang Wenyi was still wailing.
Father leaned forward and saw Wang Wenyi's strange face.
On his cheek, there was a dark blue thing flowing.
The father reached out and touched the sticky and hot liquid.
My father smelled a smell similar to the silt of the Mok River, but much fresher than the silt of the Mok River.
It overwhelms the fragrance of mint, overwhelms the bitterness of sorghum, it awakens the memory of my father that is getting closer and closer, it sludges the river of ink, sorghum under the black soil, and the past that will never die and will never be left behind. Living together now, sometimes everything will spit out the smell of human blood.
"Uncle," said my father, "uncle, you've got the lottery."
"Dougan, you are Douguan, look at the uncle's head still growing around his neck?"
"Yes, uncle, looks good, but the ears are bleeding."
Wang Wenyi stretched out his hand to touch his ears and felt blood in one hand. After screaming for a while, he paralyzed: "Commander, I'm lucky!
I have a lottery, I have a lottery. "
Commander Yu came back from the front, squatted down, pinched Wang Wenyi's neck, lowered his voice and said, "Don't call, if you call me again, you will be killed!"
Wang Wenyi didn't dare to call.
"Where is it hurting?"
Commander Yu asked.
"ear……"
Wang Wenyi cried and said.
Commander Yu pulled out a furoshiki-like white cloth from his waist, tore it in half, and handed it to Wang Wenyi, saying: "Cover it first, don't make a noise, follow along, and then bandage it on the road."
Commander Yu also called: "Guard bean."
When his father answered, Commander Yu took him by the hand.
Wang Wenyi followed hummingly.
Shi Cai's shot was caused by a big dumb man carrying a rake in front of his head and accidentally fell, and the spear on his back went off.
Dumb is an old friend of Commander Yu. He was a stubborn hero who had eaten "cakes" in the sorghum field. He walked up and down because of a foot injury in his mother's womb, but he was very fast and his father was a little scared. he.
The heavy fog around dawn finally dissipated when Commander Yu’s team crossed the Jiaoping Highway.
August in my hometown is a foggy season, perhaps due to the low-lying soil moist.
After stepping onto the highway, his father felt agile and light, and his feet were neat and vigorous. He let go of his hand that grabbed the corner of Yu Commander's clothes.
Wang Wenyi covered his bloody ears with a white cloth, crying all over his face.
Commander Yu bandaged his ears with rough hands and feet, even half of his head.
Wang Wenyi grinned with pain.
Commander Yu said: "You are so deadly!"
Wang Wenyi said: "My blood is running out, I can't go!"
Commander Yu said: "Fart, a mosquito bite is nothing but that, forget about your three sons!"
Wang Wenyi lowered his head and mumbled, "I didn't forget, I didn't forget."
He is carrying a long barrel shotgun with a blood red butt.
A flat iron box with gunpowder hung on his ass obliquely.
The remaining fog has retreated into the sorghum fields.
There is a layer of coarse sand on the road, without traces of cattle and horses, and even no one.
Opposite the dense sorghum on both sides of the road, the road is desolate, absurd, and feels ominous.
Father had known that Commander Yu’s team could not even be deaf, dumb, and lame, but no more than forty people, but when these people lived in the village, they were disturbed, as if the village was full of soldiers.
The line was placed on the road, and more than 30 people shrank into a ball, like a frozen snake.
The guns are long and short, the local cannon, shotgun, old Hanyang, Fang Liufang and the seven brothers carry a big pole that can knock out the small weighing weight.
The dumb man carried a rectangular rake for levelling the ground with 26 iron pointed teeth around it, and three other team members each carried a plate.
At that time, my father didn't know what was going on in an ambush, let alone why he had to carry four iron-tooth harrows in an ambush.
